Invader Zim: In Dying Days
by 4321IronMaiden
Summary: Zim takes off to join the Irken Armada as it rolls over all in its path, with Dib in hot pursuit. The path has been set, and destiny beckons. Galactic-scale war. OCs as supporting characters. Language and gore. My first, please review/critique.
1. Prologue: Conquer All

**Prologue: Conquer All**

Death had come to the world of Lortak.

It had come in the fifty-eighth year of the rule of the Almighty Tallest Red and Purple, and the eighth year of Operation Impending Doom II. It had come aboard the 66th Fleet of the Irken Armada, the 'Starbreakers.' Spearheading this fleet was _the Massive_, the flagship of the Tallest. It had come to Lortak as it had come to so many other worlds, for the Irkens were on the warpath. The Irken Empire had resumed its bid to conquer the galaxy, and Lortak now lay in the path of the Irkens' crusade. On the surface, 9 billion Lortak had gone about their day-cycles, completely unaware of the cataclysm approaching their world. The brutish reptilians were now fighting for their lives, as their planet thrashed in its last throes of death.

The capital city of Korassk was aflame, and seven massive Irken drop ships hung in the sky over it, their guns pounding the spires into dust. Columns of armored Irken Elite marched through the streets, butchering all who resisted. The broken army of the Lortak wearily threw themselves once more into a fight that was already lost. All across the world, massive fires burned, from the forests to the grasslands to the cities. The Lortak fleet floated dead in space, their hulls utterly shattered by the Irkens' superior weapon systems. Irken corvettes flew over the countryside, loudspeakers blaring insane rhetoric on the superiority of the Irken race. Lines of thousands of Lortak, bound in chains, shuffled towards their new lives of enslavement. Dozens of Megadoomers climbed the enormous mountains, firing up at fortresses nestled in the peaks. Irken artillery unleashed hell on every village in their range, while grav-tanks rolled across the land, crushing the forests before them and ending all life they encountered. Lortak lay in ruins, and the masterminds of this devastation now made their way to the surface of the dying world.

In Korassk's city square, the Irken soldiers had been gathered to bear witness to the Almighty Tallests' arrival. A streamlined black shuttle alighted in the spaceport, which was under heavy guard. A ramp slid down, and two tall Irken glided down silently. One was clad in red, the other purple. The Irkens bowed down when they passed, and the two Irken slowly progressed to the city plaza. There, standing atop a broken fountain was Supreme Commander Zark, the dozens of medals studding his black uniform reflecting the glow of the fires. Zark was the highest ranked military officer in the Empire, answering only to the Tallest. Zark lived for war in all forms, and he preferred to lead the ground attacks personally, therefore the common soldiers respected him greatly. He fired a few shots from his laser pistol into the air and screamed down at the gathered Irkens in the plaza, "Mighty warriors of Irk! Your leaders have set foot on their new world, to bless this filthy planet with their great presence! They are the lights by which the beautiful Irken race shall illuminate the galaxy! They have broken the backs of Vort, Blorch, and countless others! When we fight, when we kill, when we die, it is in their name! I give you, YOUR! ALMIGHTY! TAAAALLEEEEST!" The Irken crowd roared with approval, and twin figures of incarnate evil ascended to a vantage point where they could overlook the gathered soldiers.

Tallest Purple and Red, bedecked in baroque armor in the colors they were named for, surveyed the crowd. They floated gently on their gravity belts which gave them the illusion of being even taller than they were. On the hellish horizon a megaton plasma warhead detonated, casting a mushroom cloud flickering with green flames into the air. Irken soldiers crowded on top of tanks to get a better view of their Tallest, and thousands more thronged the city square; all of them screaming in adulation of the Tallest. Red placed his hands behind his back and smiled, and all grew quiet in the plaza, save the roar of the conflagrations raging through the city, and the distant thunder of Irken artillery.

Red spoke up, saying, "My loyal, brave soldiers, today we have come one step closer to the new era of Irken rule. You have laid waste to Lortak, and you should be proud, for the galaxy shall be better for it. Tragic as it may be, these Lortak can never see the light of the great Irken race, and for that they have paid," Red paused, and Purple picked up right where Red had left off.

"The Era of Irk has begun, and we are living in its glorious baptism of fire! We shall forge the galaxy into a single, pure empire that shall last from its formation to the ending of all. This era of instability and diversity is ending, and in times of change such as these, we must have the resolve to see our destiny to its completion. Do not falter!" Purple shouted, punching his gauntlets into the air as the crowd cheered, asserting their determination. A wing of Voot Fighters screamed overhead, right on time, and the crowd cheered even louder.

"Hard times are coming, but we shall stand fast." said Red. "There are rumors of a great alliance stirring in the western fringe, but I say LET THEM COME! If you follow your orders, fight bravely, and show no mercy, we shall purge the Milky Way of these weakling races' empires, and unite the galaxy under the banner of the glorious Irken Empire. Your names shall be written alongside the names of Irk's greatest: Ursh the Conqueror, Tyrax and his Blood-Born, and Lasc the Avenger! We shall be as gods among the innumerable stars!" The crowd cheered again, but an edge of anger was building up inside the voice of the mob.

"Through the violence and horror of this war, we shall leave nothing in our wake but the foundations of our new realm. The strong are meant to rule the weak. We shall stand, and we shall wipe out these blights on the galaxy!" Purple cried, whipping the angry crowd into frenzy. "Show the filth the power of Irk! Tear down their empires! Set fire to their worlds! Suffer not for them to live!" The crowd's wrath reached a fever pitch, and bestial rage echoed in the chest of every Irken watching.

"You were born for this! You were born for greatness, for conquest! You were born to take back the stars! YOU WERE BORN TO KILL!" Irken soldiers beat their chests, stamped their feet, and screamed their hate to the heavens.

"These lowly races look to you and HATE you, because they cannot be you! If they would give us hate, then let us return it TENFOLD! LET YOUR HATE FOR THEM FLOW! LET IT RUN FREE!" The Irkens were nearly mindless with rage now. Zark roared like a beast and fired his pistol into the air. Soldiers slammed their helmeted heads into their rifles, foaming at the mouth. Others scored their arms and cheeks with their combat knives. Discipline was giving way to bestial wrath, as the famed Irken legions transformed into a churning maelstrom of violence.

"WARRIORS OF IRK!" Red roared, as the speech reached its climax. "THE PATH HAS BEEN SET! THE GALAXY WILL BE OURS! STAR BY BLOODSTAINED STAR WE SHALL CONQUER! DESTINY BECKONS! GO FORTH!" The Irkens gave the greatest cheer yet and dashed off, sprinting to find a release for their pent up rage. A group of Elites came upon a Lortak chain-gang, and butchered the terrified reptilians before the Irken slavers could stop them. Others set to work on the fires, feeding them until they became all-consuming infernos. Tanks blasted apart the ruins that still stood, pounding them to dust. Zark stood panting at the base of the fountain, and looked up at his Tallest in awe. Red looked down at him and smiled sardonically. "Commander? Is everything alright?" he asked, smiling reassuringly.

Zark fumbled for a response. "T-terrifying, m-my Tallest. Glorious and terrifying. You're truly inspiring, Tallest." Purple chuckled at that.

"Commander Zark, that was nothing but the truth. The soldiers need to know that we are Irken, and that means we're better. We may have gone a little overboard on the extermination angle, though, eh Red?" Purple said as he gave Red a friendly punch to the shoulder.

Red grinned, and said "I got caught up in the moment, that's all. Now let's get back to _the Massive_, I've got a hankering for some nachos." Purple's eyes lit up.

"I'll race you to the shuttle!" He cried. The two friends took off, laughing, without a care in the world, and Zark sighed as he headed off to make sure enough Lortak were spared to maintain the massive arms foundries that would be built here after the Armada had left. No one remained in the plaza save heaps of corpses, and the silence of death settled over it.

The conflagrations spread, and massive clouds of ash choked most of what life survived the fires. The cities became overgrown ruins, and the Lortak feared to venture there. The 2.3 billion surviving Lortak were press ganged into working the factories, under the watchful eyes of 10 million Irken troops, churning out weapons of war to murder other worlds just as their world had been put down. The once-proud Lortak became bitter and cowed by their Irken masters. Small rebel movements periodically sprang up in the mountain fortresses, but these were always dispatched with ruthless, excessive force. The ashen fallout coated the environment, and the burned forests and grasslands became harsh, dead lands. This process had been repeated a thousand times across a thousand fronts, as the Irken Armada rolled over the stars in its path.

Death had come to Lortak.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<br>**

**So yeah. Basically, this is going to be my vision for how IZ ends. I'd just like to warn you, if you think this chapter is incredibly grim and dark, it's not going to get much nicer. On the other hand, most chapters aren't going to have intricate descriptions of genocide and enslavement either. But this is about war on a galactic scale, so you should leave your idealism at the door.**

**Just so we're clear, this is NOT OOC for the Tallest. The only way to consider this derailing their characters is if you ignore the context that they're out to conquer the galaxy and consider their race superior than all others. I just showed you, in essence, what they were doing in between all the times when Zim called them. The Tallest are not really nice guys, they're genocidal self-righteous dictators. They've also taken several levels in badass, I hope.**

**You'll also notice that I've expanded the scale at which the Irkens operate. This was for the sake of realism, as there's no way that the Armada as we see it in IZ could conquer the entire galaxy. Also note that in this fic the Irkens actually do conquer worlds in conventional ways, and do not just let Invaders take care of it. Whether or not you think this is how it happened in canon Zim is up to you, but for the sake of this story, the Irkens are actually a serious, credible threat to the galaxy.**

**Now for acknowledgments. First of all I'd like to thank Jhonen Vasquez for creating this wonderful show that I'm writing about. I'm not sure what else there is to say about that, so I'll move along.**

**I'd also like to thank ngrey651, who wrote the very good fan fiction Invader Zim: The Series. This inspired me to write my own series, although mine is going to be darker whereas his was more lighthearted. I've also received his permission to borrow a couple of elements from his story. These elements will be given credit once they appear in my story.**

**Now then, about the titles in this fic. They're named after metal songs. There's no other way about it. There will probably be all kinds of metal represented by the end of this, but I would like to make it clear, IT'S NOT NECESSARY TO LIKE THIS MUSIC TO READ THE FIC. It's kind of just a gimmick that I thought of and would like to stick to. And at least metal song names have depth to them. So now for more acknowledgments.**

**The subtitle for the fic itself comes from the song "In Dying Days" by As Blood Runs Black. The title just came to me because these are troubled times for the galaxy. Impending Doom II is going very well for the Irkens, but the rest of the Milky Way isn't going to sit back and let that happen. It's also fitting, because an Invader Zim AMV with a song by ABRB was the first thing I had ever heard by them.**

**The name for the prologue comes from Behemoth's magnum opus "Conquer All". Just reading the title alone should be enough to realize why it fits with the story, but it helps that Behemoth is my second favorite band in the world.**

**Thanks for reading all of this, and please feel free to write a review if you liked it or if you have some constructive criticism.**


	2. Chapter 1: Born to Lose

**Chapter 1: Born To Lose**

Zim surveyed his surroundings as the spider legs of his PAK pulled him over the rail of the skyscraper's roof. The huge building's rooftop held two large ventilation units, and the northeast and southeast corners were terraced, and were used respectively as a helipad and a doorway leading to the offices below. Zim was wearing his usual attire, and had his contacts in and his wig on. GIR soared around the rooftop with the jets built into his feet. Zim wiped his brow and, retracting his PAK's spider legs, sat down in the shade of the vents, for it was a swelteringly hot day. He forgot himself for a moment, and sighed as he thought of his time on Earth.

The past seven years had been rough. He had made depressingly little progress in conquering Earth, which is to say he had graduated from Skool and was now in what the humans referred to as High Skool, specifically a so-called 'senior year'. He had done well in the classes here, for it was all primitive sciences and mathematics which the Irkens had surpassed millennia ago, and he was becoming quite proficient in writing in the human tongue. He cared little for this pathetic mudball's history, and could not care less that his grades there were floundering. But apart from this graduation, he had done nothing of note. He had upgraded his equipment significantly, and he had even grown decently tall for an Irken. But he still could claim nothing for the Irken Empire save his house. But the main problem was, as it had always been, Dib.

Dib had begun commandeering his father's smaller workshops in his spare time, which delighted his father. His father's joy always faded when the legitimate science his son was conducting was inevitably put to use in paranormal investigations.

Zim snapped out of his melancholy. _I am an Invader of Irk! _Zim thought._ I will not let this depression erode my will. I shall raze the human world to the ground! _"GIR!" he shouted, "Get those vents open! The computer said that this building is home to the greatest arms company in the world! I SHALL HAVE ITS SECRETS!"

"OKAY!" shrieked GIR, rocketing towards the grate leading to the vents. He smashed into them face-first, and bounce off, laughing his head off. He got up, and then went to work, straining with his little arms to pull the grate off. The grate began to buckle outwards, and Zim stood by, watching impassively. Over the sounds of groaning metal, Zim thought he heard the sound of metal scraping along concrete, but dismissed it. The hour of this small victory was at hand, and he was utterly absorbed in it. GIR eventually ripped the grate off, leaving an entrance through which Zim could easily climb down into the office of secrets.

Just then, a voice called out to him from behind, crying "Stop, Zim!" Zim whirled around, eyes narrowing as he recognized the voice of his nemesis.

"Dib!" he snarled, and Dib it was. Dib stood atop the helipad, clad in his black spy suit and wearing goggles to shield his eyes. In each hand he held a tonfa, which he had been training with for a couple of years now. Dib stood only an inch taller than Zim, and glared at the Irken with pure hate.

"What are you doing here, Zim?" he asked. "Trying to steal some human weapons?" Dib took a few steps forward.

"I shall have your human army's secrets! Do not attempt to deny me!" shouted Zim. "After I defeat you, I shall descend these vents, and steal away your precious military technology, and then I shall turn it against YOU!" with that said, Zim threw his head back and let out a maniacal laugh.

Dib looked amused at Zim, and smirked as he said, "Zim, that plan is idiotic. First, there's no way that those vents are big enough to crawl through once they get down into the building. Second, this is an office building. You'll be lucky if they have any blueprints, and all the actual weapons are at a testing ground somewhere. There's _nothing_ for you here." Zim's laughter stopped short at that.

"YOU'RE LYIIIING!" screamed Zim. "I tire of your noise! GIR! Destroy the Dib-monkey!"

"OKEY-DOKEY! Buh-bye, Dib!" GIR squealed, dropping the grate. He picked it back up by its edge and then spun towards Dib, dragging the other edge on the ground, like Zim had seen warriors do in some of the cartoons GIR watched called 'anime' or some human nonsense like that. GIR threw the grate with all his might, but Dib jumped down from the helipad and the projectile soared over him.

Dib was now charging right at Zim, his two tonfas held over his head. Dib screamed wordlessly as he neared Zim. Zim grinned, and deployed his PAK's spider legs. He raised one up to swat Dib away, but Dib slid under it. Dib kicked out one of Zim's other three legs while tripping the last two with his tonfas. Zim crashed to the ground, wrapping his PAK's legs around him to avoid getting them tangled on the ground.

Zim looked up, and saw Dib raising both tonfas over his head. Rolling desperately out of the way, he sat up and saw Dib's tonfas hit the ground. As Dib whirled towards him, Zim lashed out with three of his PAK's legs, keeping the fourth tucked near him in case Dib got by the others. Zim cursed as Dib deflected the first two, but then howled in triumph as the last one came in low and sent Dib flying into the second vent. Dib shakily stood up, still gripping the tonfas. _How does he manage to keep ahold of those beaty-sticks? No matter! _Zim furiously thought. "SO, YOU WISH TO DUEL ME, DIB? AN **INVADER OF **_**IRK**_?" he screamed. Standing up, he activated the latest feature he had installed into his PAK.

The four spider legs retracted, and Zim raised his hands. Two thin limbs, similar to the spider legs but with large bludgeons on the end of them, extended at Zim's shoulders and attached themselves around his arms. They had two fully flexible joints, one at the shoulder and the other at the elbow. As the bulbous ends extended past his wrists they opened up and closed around Zim's hands, forming a pair of enormous armored gauntlets. "They're powered by my PAK," said Zim. "Do you like them?" Smirking, Zim let his arms dangle to the ground and looked up at Dib, saying "Now then, Dib of the Large Head. Come, and TASTE THE FISTS OF YOUR DOOOOM!" Zim screamed as he sprinted towards Dib, who likewise charged, his tonfas twirling in a tornado of smacky pain.

At the last second, Zim saw Dib dodge to his right, his feet spinning him around. Zim careened by and spun, sliding to a stop, coming almost face to face with Dib. _How did he get there so quickly? _He thought as he launched a haymaker with his left hand. Too late, Zim saw Dib's left tonfa stabbing right at him. The blunt weapon rocketed right into his squeedlyspooch, just as Dib took Zim's punch. The massive force behind the PAK-powered punch nearly knocked Dib out, and he flew away from his Irken opponent. Zim slumped to the ground, groaning in pain and clutching his squeedlyspooch. He watched Dib crawl dazedly towards the center of the rooftop, still holding onto those damned tonfas. Then Zim noticed that GIR was walking up to him, and when the little robot got close, he leaned in and came face-to-face with Zim.

"ZIM? ZIIIIM?" shouted GIR, right in Zim's ears. "The Scary Monkey Show's about to start! We're going to miss it!" Zim blearily focused on GIR and saw that he looked rather distressed. He was on the verge of tears, and was wringing his little hands in worry. Zim slowly got to his feet, and looked over at Dib, who lay unmoving near the center of the rooftop.

Zim looked at his armored hands, and clenched his fists a few times. His eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth. Then he looked up at Dib and said, "That's the _last _time you'll ever strike me, you human _fuck_." His voice was hoarse with rage. His fury at Dib blazed like it hadn't in years. "You shall interfere with my plans _no more_." He declared as he strode towards Dib, with murder in his eyes. Dib saw him coming, but Zim didn't even care.

As he reached Dib, the boy lashed out in desperation with his left tonfa. Zim caught it in his left hand, and squeezed, snapping it into pieces. He caught the other tonfa and broke it in the same way. Dib threw the handles in Zim's face, and Zim raised his hands to protect his eyes, dropping the pieces of the tonfas he had been holding. Zim lowered his hands in time to see Dib throw an awkward punch with his right hand. The Irken caught it with his left hand and slammed Dib's gut with an underhand punch. Dib sunk to his knees. "You brought this upon _yourself_, scum." Zim couldn't remember ever feeling this angry, but he couldn't bring himself to yell and carry on like he did all the time. He was being oddly quiet, he realized. "Since my first day on this planet you've hounded me, never giving me peace. _You should have left me alone, you hairy ape,_" he snarled, and floored Dib with a mighty haymaker.

"ZIIIM? WHATTABOUT THE SCARY MO-O-ONKEY?" sobbed GIR. The little robot was now bawling his eyes out at the thought of missing his favorite show, but his master couldn't care less. To Zim, the sounds of lamentation, no matter the cause, were an appropriate backdrop to the final defeat of his archenemy. He lifted Dib up by his ridiculous haircut, and slammed his face into the ground.

Zim lifted up his opponent once more, and spat in his face, saying "_I should have done this the day I met you_." Zim lifted Dib over his head and walked towards the edge of the rooftop. Dib seemed to realize what Zim was planning and began squirming fitfully whilst screaming incoherently. Zim neared the edge and roared, "I am ZIM! And ZIM!" Dib struggled to get to his utility belt, but couldn't reach it in the Irken's crushing grip. "_SHALL_!" Zim raised Dib back over his head, heedless of both GIR's and Dib's cries. "_**RULE**_!" bellowed Zim, as he hurled Dib off the roof.

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><p>Dib screamed as he flew through the air and plummeted towards the ground. He reached for his grappling pistol, which had allowed him to reach the roof in the first place. He desperately searched for something that he could use to latch onto to save himself. <em>There! <em>Dib thought as he fell past a window cleaning platform on the building across the street.

Dib fired, and watched with his heart pounding as the grappling hook shot towards the platform. It soared over the edge and as it slid back, it got caught on the gap between the floor and walls of the platform, startling the two men standing in it. Dib laughed triumphantly, but his laughter died as the cable tightened, and pulled him towards the building. Dib realized with horror that his momentum would carry him right into the windows of the building!

Dib curled up into a ball as he cannoned into the window. The glass shattered, and he landed on a desk overflowing with massive piles of papers and portfolios, scattering them into the air. The man sitting at the desk was taken aback, and the man sitting in front of the desk was taken out, as Dib bounced off the desk and bowled into him. The man's office chair tottered for a moment, before comically falling over backwards. Dib stood up, apologized quietly, and limped towards the elevator without another word, leaving the bewildered businessmen in their ruined office.

Dib took nine steps. He heard a woman screaming for someone to call an ambulance, and then he fell and knew no more.

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><p>Zim howled with impotent fury as Dib escaped certain doom. "Is there no getting rid of that stink-boy?" he screamed. Turning to GIR, he shouted, "GIR! Fly me down there now! I will slay the Dib-Monkey! THIS ENDS HERE!"<p>

GIR looked up at Zim and smiled. "Uh-uh. We gotta go see the Scary Monkey Show, 'member?" Zim had been focusing on Dib, struggling to get out of the office he had landed in. Upon hearing GIR's words, his eyes went wide and he turned to stare at the robot. "Come on, Zim! LET'S GO HOME, 'KAY?" squealed GIR as he picked Zim up and rocketed off before the Invader could even react.

Zim screamed, both from the sudden vertigo and at being foiled by his foolish robot. "NO! GIR, TURN AROUND!" he shouted. "THE STINKY HUMAN STILL DRAWS BREATH!" Zim turned towards the building Dib had crashed through, and heedless of the fact that Dib couldn't possibly hear him, screamed "DEATH COMES TO US ALL, DIB! THE HOUR OF YOURS DRAWS NEAR!" Zim then ranted and raved at GIR; cursing the day the Tallest had given him to Zim, and threatening to melt him into slag with which he would make a _working_ SIR unit. GIR paid his master no mind, and cheerily hummed a broken tune the whole way back.

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><p>Dib woke up in a hospital bed with his sister and – could it be? – his father, surprisingly in person, standing over him. He couldn't understand what they were saying; all he could think of was what Zim had said. The words resounded in his head, echoing through the corridors of his mind.<p>

_You brought this upon yourself. You've never given me peace. You should have left me alone_. For the first time in the seven years he had been pursuing Zim, Dib was almost shaken by the alien's words. But Zim had admitted to trying to conquer the Earth. That justified all Dib had done against him, right? Maybe, but regardless, today something in Zim had _snapped_. Dib had never seen him so angry before, and never so directly had Zim tried to kill him. Zim had always been the hands-off type. What was going on in that alien mind of his? Dib's eyelids felt heavy, and he closed them, and resolved to think on this once he got out of the hospital.

Dib nodded off, and he fell into a peaceful sleep unconcerned with aliens, or school, or any of the problems of the human life.

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><p>Outside the hospital, a shadowy figure crouched on a rooftop across the street. Beneath the hood of its cloak, the stranger silently watched Dib and his family. <em>Good, he lives, <em>thought the observer. _This boy may have some use, and it would not do for him to die yet. _

Standing up, the figure started to walk off, but cast its gaze back at the hospital once more. _Stay safe, young one. I may need you soon. _The stranger walked off the roof and dropped onto the street below. Thunder rumbled overhead, and a brilliant bolt of lightning split the sky as rain began to pour down.

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><p>The rain pattered against the windows of Zim's base, and lightning flashed. Zim sat on his couch, glowing with rage. No matter what he did, Dib always escaped, and his plans always failed. Zim had been so caught up in trying to destroy the human that he didn't realize until much later that GIR had also prevented him from gaining access to the weapons technology in that human building. Although the more he thought about it, the more that Dib's words about it being somewhere else made sense. That, of course, only made Zim even more furious.<p>

But Zim's fury was focused on GIR at the moment. _Why must I have what is surely the most defective SIR unit in the galaxy?_ Zim had maintained contact with his friends Larb and Skoodge, and knew that both of their SIRs were very useful. Skoodge's SIR had actually been instrumental in the subduing of Blorch's Slaughtering Rat People in preparation for the Tallests' arrival. Zim banished these thoughts as he heard GIR's discordant humming drawing nearer.

GIR skipped happily into the room, carrying a plate of waffles. "GUESS WHO MADE WAFFLES?" He held them up to Zim for half a minute before Zim grudgingly took them. GIR did, after all, make mighty fine waffles. The little robot smiled and hugged Zim around his knees. Zim didn't know whether GIR's faulty circuits had told him this would cheer Zim up, or if GIR was just being as whimsical as he always was. But for the first time in months, Zim found himself genuinely smiling, and patted GIR on his head, before digging into the plate of waffles.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<br>**

**D'awww I always liked the little moments where Zim and GIR seem affectionate with each other. And with that out of the way IN NO WAY DOES THIS IMPLY THAT THERE WILL BE ZAGR IN THE FUTURE. I'm not going to write romance between an asexual alien and a little mentally handicapped robot. Seriously. And in case you can't tell, Zim and Dib are actually acting in character. And by that, I mean they fucking hate each other. I simply cannot fathom why so many people write ZaDR fics. So if you're upset that, gasp, Zim actually tried to kill Dib, then I guess this isn't the fic for you. Sorry.**

**Chapter name comes from the song "Born to Lose" by The Devil Wears Prada. I think it sums up the epic fails perpetrated by both Dib and Zim throughout the TV series.**

**Also, I forgot to mention the time skip. This takes place before Zim and Dib start their senior year in high school. Why? Because I at least know how an 18 year old would react in given situations, so I decided to write them that way. Don' worry, it isn't that big of a plot point.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review! :D**


	3. Chapter 2: Coalescing Prophecy

**Chapter 2: Coalescing Prophecy**

The room was dimly lit, with no light coming in save from the doors, and from the single light above the platform in the center. The room was too large to be properly illuminated by these, and deep darkness reigned. On the dais sat a small being, swathed in ochre robes. Two short, stubby horns poked out from hood. Her head was downcast, contemplating what she had just seen.

Around her, sitting beneath her seat were a half a dozen scribes of various species. Each of them sat on the edge of their seat, their fingers poised over their datapads. Those gathered on the world hung onto every word of the prophetess of Vort, and they did not want a single word to escape their notice.

Over a dozen figures stood outside the circle of the scribes, vague shadows to the eyes of the oracle before them. Some conversed with each other, but many held themselves apart. They were allies, not friends. Necessity, desperation, and other sundry reasons had brought many of them together. Some of the galaxy's fiercest warriors, gathered into one room. Some had been at each other's throats only a few years ago, but that had changed. Everything had changed with the Fall of Vort.

One of the shadows looked around, and saw that all were ready. He spoke up with a weary, shaky voice. "Please, Sharn Yal. What have you seen?" The subdued conversations around him immediately ceased, and to an outside observer the room seemed to collectively be holding its breath.

Sharn Yal looked up finally, and her yellow eyes fell upon the shade. The prophetess smiled sadly, and closed them, calling upon what she had seen and heard. She spoke with a powerful voice, belied by her slight form, and every word was heavy with destiny:

"The Scourge shall come, unstoppable, falling upon you like the night

Stand together, or hope shall die screaming, as they ascend to rule all.

Unleashed from their hives, ravening with glee, thirsting for carnage

And world by world, the shadow will spread, to consume us.

A hateful light shall strike against the dark, but it brings no salvation.

The destiny of the Invaders will manifest

And the free races shall squabble as the galaxy runs red.

The Black Sun shall bring forth the Twin Woes,

The Doom of Orion will storm across the heavens, mad with rage,

The Destroyer will hunt amidst the harvest, none standing in his way,

And the Carrion Lord will feed upon the stars themselves.

Their grip shall tighten as their legions descend upon your worlds,

And the chains of tyranny will fall upon all peoples.

Your days shall come to an end, if you are found wanting.

And the galaxy shall mourn."

The shadows stood by silently, each contemplating the grim prophecy they had just heard. The scribes looked at each other with fearful eyes. Sharn Yal sat back and stared at the shadows, eyeing them each in turn.

A large shadow shifted behind the one that had bid the oracle to speak. It spoke with a voice like stones grinding against one another. "We have work to do, then." The large silhouette strode purposefully out of the room. The others remained, conversing quietly among themselves. The small shadow in the center seemed lost in thought.

Two tall figures, which whirred and clanked as they walked, strode over to where it stood. "These are grim tidings. What do you make of it?" asked one, its mechanical voice harsh and monotone, while the other stood silently at its companion's side.

"Continue to gather your fleets," the small shadow said dismissively. "Leave the prophecy to our people," it said, taking in the scribes and oracle with a gesture. "We have been deciphering the prophecies of her kind since before we took to the stars. The prophecy left room for hope, however slim. We simply must not be found wanting, my friends."

The second silhouette, the one which had remained silent, let out a choking laugh, which sounded like water hitting a fire. The first gave it a warning glance, and looked back down at the small form before it. "Very well, old friend; we will stand with you when the time comes. Best work out this portent quickly, though. The rest seem uneasy with it. Farewell."

The short shadow nodded, obviously distracted, and said nothing as the two tall shadows clanked out of the room. Seeing them depart, a massive shadow, as big as a starfighter, glided down to the floor and shuffled over. The others in the room caught a glimpse of enormous black pinions, which gave it the appearance of a patch of deeper darkness, which seemed to drain the light from nearby. It spoke with a croaking, raspy voice. "The Irkens' progress should give us time to work this out. More races are flocking to our cause, and the fleet in orbit is mighty indeed."

The small figure nodded, and spoke neutrally, saying "Good. Make sure to spread word of the slaughter at Lortak. Fan the flames of hate for the Irkens."

The other figure stopped for a moment, and then brought itself level with the smaller shadow. Its voice rattled as it strove to maintain its composure. "Do not think to order me, Vortian, when you could not even hold your own world. That cybernetic lickspittle might consider you a friend, but not I. I am the greatest warrior you have, and…"

"There are more than a few who would dispute that claim." Spat the little silhouette. The huge form shrunk back as if struck. The smaller being began to wonder if he had just crossed the line. But then a strange _whark whark whark _sound began to issue from the form before it, and the smaller being realized it was laughing.

"You have mettle, little one. If you were one of my subjects I would tear the meat from your bones and quench my thirst with your blood. Very well, I will inform the fleets. But heed my words, for I take no orders." The form seemed to melt away, and the patch of deeper darkness slithered its way through the room, and out the door. A Vortian shrunk back from the enormous alien stalking through the doorway, and walked up to its leader deferentially as he stood contemplating the omens before him.

"Sir. The Irkens have hit Galastrix."

* * *

><p>Invader Larb looked around the interior of the drop pod as it streaked towards the surface of Galastrix. The planet's fleet lay murdered in space, having put up a negligible fight, and now the initial assault on the surface was beginning. His blood was up; he normally took no pleasure in killing, unlike many of his compatriots, but now was different. He felt the words of the Tallest ringing in his head. The rousing speech, pre-recorded for each of the Fleets most likely, had struck a note deep within all the Irkens of the 13th Fleet, the 'Iron Fists', and the frenzied Irkens were now hurtling towards the surface of the world they had been ordered to kill.<p>

The dimly lit drop pod was suddenly flooded with blood red light, signaling that they had passed through the atmosphere. They were very near to the surface, and closing fast. The harnesses holding them into place tightened in order to prevent whiplash, and Larb craned his head to the side as far as was possible in the braces. He raised his rifle into the air, and called to the Elite squad from the 4th Shock Army that he had been attached to. "Good hunting! Tallest guide your shots! We shall drink together once this is over!"

Only three of the Elites responded, barely nodding towards their nominal commanding officer. Sergeant Vyprec, muscular and scarred, craned his head over towards Larb and had to shout to be heard "Stick with us, sir! You've been assigned with us for a reason; we're the best of the best!" He smiled wickedly, and went back to his meditations as the roaring outside grew even louder. Some of the Elites began to scream; wordless howls carrying no thoughts beyond rage and hate.

Larb decided not to mention that as an Invader, he was trained and enhanced enough to kill them all in ten seconds flat.

There was suddenly a crash beneath their feet, but the momentum didn't stop. They had been sent hurtling through a building in their descent. There was a horrible _crump _and their drop pod was stilled. The blood red light shifted to a brilliant emerald, and the doors of the drop pod lifted up, filling it with dazzling sunlight. Their braces lifted up, and the Irkens raised their weapons. "TO WAR!" roared Vyprec, as he led his squadron into the fray.

Larb's antennae were immediately greeted by screams of terrified crowds and the sounds of battle. He caught his first sight of a Telex, the race whose world they were invading, at that moment. The soldier was slightly taller than Larb, with bright blue skin and spindly limbs. His hair, had it not been squashed beneath a full-visor helmet, would have looked like a bright green flame. He shouted and fired a sporadic burst of laser fire towards the Elites. Vyprec laughed as a blast hit his right forearm, burning his armor but not penetrating it. He lowered his gun, a massive full-auto blaster cannon, and rushed at the Telex with his bayonet leading the way. The soldier tried to swat aside the charging Irken, but Vyprec was faster and impaled the hapless Telex. He lifted him into the air and hurled him off his gun, screaming incoherently.

Nearby, an Elite kicked open a door, and chucked a photon grenade into the building. Muffled screams came from inside, and a bright blue flash exploded from inside, shattering its windows. The screaming stopped. Another Irken unloaded on a mob of fleeing citizens, roaring "Kill! KILL!" as he gunned them down mercilessly.

Larb ducked behind a downed civilian vehicle, and began firing at an enemy squad that was pinned down by Irken fire from the intersecting street. He felt his pulse quicken as two of the Telex slumped to the ground, writhing in agony. He broke cover, and felt something primal come to life within him. He stood in the middle of the street, screaming like a lunatic, and continued to fire as he advanced towards them.

He gunned down another of his enemies, and charged them, whipping out his combat knife and tucking his rifle under his right arm. He felt Vyprec and another of his Elites behind him, and heard them laughing exultantly. Larb's amplified hearing picked up Vyprec's comment that "the boy was learning fast." He dismissed it, and spat in fury as he slashed a Telex across the back. The enemy squadron reeled backwards, but to their credit they leapt into close quarters with the charging Irkens.

Vyprec slammed the butt of his rifle into the guts of one, while the other Elite fired at the other one, forcing him backwards as he absorbed the shots with his armor. Larb swung his rifle up in a feint, and when the Telex moved to block with his own weapon, Larb darted in with his knife, plunging it into the enemy's side. The Telex soldier dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, and Larb put him out of his misery with a swift stab to the head. Blood sprayed out of the wound, covering Larb. The Invader shook his head to clear his eyes and looked up to see Vyprec tossing aside a battered corpse, while the other Elite drew his bayonet from the chest of the last Telex.

"Ah, you fight like a true Elite, Invader." Vyprec grinned, wiping green blood off his visor which he had apparently been slamming into his enemy's face. "Orders?"

Larb paused, panting, and collected his thoughts. "I have no orders for you, save that you kill," he said slowly. The Elite with him howled with glee, and gestured for his four squadmates to advance with them. Larb took off down the street towards the towering palace, itself besieged. The Elites hurried behind him, only stopping to grenade every third building.

* * *

><p>They advanced for about a kilometer before they came to a barricade swarming with Telex soldiers. An officer with golden pauldrons directed their fire, and they rapidly pushed a trio of small field artillery into position. A platoon of Irken Grunts was struggling out of a drop ship, under heavy fire from the barricade. Turning to his squad, Larb shouted "Let 'em have it, boys!" One of the Elites kneeled, and hoisted his missile launcher. One of the others loaded it from the back, and stepping away to avoid the back blast, tapped her partner on the shoulder. A missile, its trail shining like a miniature sun, shot forth and slammed into one of the artillery guns, blowing it apart. Shrapnel sliced through the stunned Telex.<p>

They immediately turned their fire towards the newly arrived Elites, who scrambled for cover behind a couple of smoldering vehicles. Vyprec slid into cover next to Larb, blind-firing towards the wall. He thumped Larb on the shoulder, shouting "Get on comms and see if we can get air support!" He stood up and hurled a grenade. "DIE! DIE! DIE!" He roared as he sprayed fire towards the barricade, heedless of the enemies' fire darting all around him.

Larb stared slack-jawed at the reckless bravery the Elites were displaying, but snapped out of it and reached up to his helmet, attempting to reach Control. "This is Invader Larb, does anybody copy?" Static crackled for a few moments before a stern female voice spoke up on comms.

"Larb, what's your situation?" Larb gulped. He hadn't been expecting the admiral herself to answer, but he was an Invader, and such were the way of things.

"My squad is pinned down! Telex infantry and field artillery. There's a platoon of Grunts here as well, but they're in disarray. They were getting pounded pretty hard when we got here. Requesting air support, ma'am!" The comms signal crackled again, and Larb thought he heard orders being issued hurriedly in the background. Larb flinched as one of the artillery guns fired, blowing away a low wall some Grunts were hiding behind. The admiral spoke up again.

"I've scrambled some gunships. I have a battle to oversee, so you'll be directed to regular comm channels from now on. You're going to receive my orders from there too. Control's callsign is Titan, yours is Hitman. As an Invader, you have to go above and beyond the norm; you're expected to turn the tide. Don't mess this up, Larb."

"Y-yes ma'am!" Larb stuttered as the comms channel went dead. Suddenly he heard the roar of engines, and his head snapped up to see a pair of Irken _Savage_-class gunships screaming towards the combat zone. Borne up by four propulsion engines, they bore a heavy armament: a forward facing rocket launcher and two rapid fire blaster cannons on both sides. The trajectory they were approaching at was much lower and faster than was safe; even the pilots were seemingly affected by the bloodlust taking hold of all the Irkens on the battlefield. Larb stood up as both of the gunships sent a rocket sailing towards the artillery. Even as the guns were exploding, the blaster cannons were beginning to rotate, saturating the area with green laser blasts. The Telex soldiers were screaming in terror and firing wildly at the gunships, trying in vain to knock them from the skies.

Laughing wildly, Vyprec punched his rifle in the air and turned to his men, crying "That's our cue boys! Slay 'til your last breath! CHARGE!" The Elites gave a wild shout, and took off running behind their berserk sergeant. Larb shook his head with disbelief, but ran after them, and noticed the Grunts' lieutenant screaming at them to charge as well. There were about twenty of them left, Larb took note. Slinging his rifle over his back, Larb drew his pistol and combat knife.

As the Irkens neared the barricade, the gunships took off, and Larb's comms picked up one of the pilots, saying "We'll be watching, Hitman. Good hunting." Larb curtly thanked them, barely acknowledging them as he set his mind to mounting the wall before him. Mentally ordering his PAK, he felt a flood of stimulants hit his blood stream, and time seemed to slow for him. He grinned as he looked the wall up and down. He was trained and had implants that made this smeet's play for him. Slowing his steps and lengthening his strides, he cleared the wall in a single bound, and fired a burst of shots as he hung in midair, his augmented eyes darting to take in the entire scene below him.

The Grunts were swarming over the barricade like insects, their lieutenant shouting encouragement to them as he began his ascent, his officer's sword drawn. A few of the Grunts were looking up at him, stunned by the incredible leap he had just made. The Elites had already cleared the edge, and were now wading into the slaughter with their blades and bayonets. The officer with the extravagant pauldrons had apparently challenged Vyprec to a duel with an ornate sword, and now bore a comical look on his face as Vyprec slammed his helmeted forehead into the Telex's face. Blood spurted from the officer's nose, most likely broken. A photon grenade went off behind the general melee, flash-frying a trio of Telex. One of the Elites reeled from the explosion, but his PAK administered coagulants and painkillers to keep the soldier in the fight, and the Elite's mouth was agape with agony and fury. The others had managed to hack apart a dozen of the Telex, but were in danger of being overrun.

Then Larb entered the fray.

Deftly landing on his feet, he spun and fired off three shots, downing two Telexes trying to get around the Elites and fire on their backs. He turned to his right and gutted a panicked enemy swinging his rifle like a club. Leveling his right arm on the dying Telex's shoulder, he fired off two shots at a pair of soldiers who were taking aim at him. Both Telexes' heads snapped back as the laser shots took them full on in the face. Ripping his blade out, he brought his left foot back in a calculated step, and began to turn at the sound of pounding footsteps approaching him. As he spun, he saw a Telex charging him with his bayonet lowered, his eyes smoldering with hate. _I must've killed one of his friends, _thought Larb, _or maybe a few more. _Without a moment's hesitation, he drew his knife back and hurled it in a perfect arc, taking the Telex in the center of his chest. The blow took the soldier's feet out from under him, but his momentum carried him forward as he fell.

Bringing his pistol up and gripping it with both hands, he fired off five shots, dropping four Telexes in rapid succession. The Grunts had reached the top of the barricade, and some of them were rushing into the melee while the others fired down on the Telexes from above. Larb didn't even flinch at the storm of laser shots which rained all around him. Holstering his pistol, he slung his rifle out, and began firing short bursts at any unengaged Telex soldiers. He downed six more in this manner. Stepping over a body, Larb realized it was the one he had killed with his knife throw. Bending over between bursts, he retrieved his knife and sheathed it once again. The Elite who had the missile launcher slung over his back looked over at Larb, an incredulous look on his face as Larb gunned down more Telex soldiers, who were beginning to break.

A flicker in Larb's peripheral vision drew his gaze, and he saw Vyprec stomp on the Telex officer's sword hand, and Larb's sharpened hearing picked up the snapping of bones. Picking up the sword, Vyprec slashed the officer across the chest with a contemptuous strike. That was the last straw for the Telex, who broke and ran, but the Irkens gunned them all down as they fled.

Vyprec cautiously approached Larb, and the Grunts' lieutenant walked up to him as well after issuing some orders to his troops. Larb's PAK ceased pumping the stimulants into his bloodstream as it sensed that the battle was over. Slowly but surely, Larb's senses all returned to normal.

"By Irk, Invader! That was amazing!" shouted Vyprec. "I've never seen such masterful fighting!"

The lieutenant chortled softly, and then said "You must've never fought beside an Invader before then. I've seen your kind in action a couple of times before, so I knew we were in for a show once I spotted your uniform, sir." Larb smiled at that, but his good cheer was replaced with deadly seriousness as his comms channel was contacted by Control.

"Come in Hitman," Said a warbling male Irken's voice.

"Hitman complies, go on Titan. Over," replied Larb, meeting Vyprec's gaze. The sergeant gestured for his soldiers to gather round to hear their orders.

"We've got Telex armor counterattacking from the Palace. Your orders are to evade them. Our tanks will take care of them. Link up with the rest of the 4th Shock Army at Tessix Square. Coordinates are being sent to your PAKs now. General Kiir knows you're coming and he will deploy you from there. You boys are going to take the Palace, over." Wide grins burst across the Elites' faces. Vyprec punched towards the sky and whooped with joy.

"Hitman acknowledges, Titan. Over," replied Larb, smiling despite himself. There was great glory to be had here.

"Alright then. Good hunting, Hitman. Titan out," Said the quavering voice, as the comms line went out.

Larb looked over his squad, and shouted "Come on you whoresons! There's killing to be done!" He took off towards Tessix Square at a dead sprint, his Elites following behind him, squealing with joy at the prospect of slaughter.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**So yeah, now you see why Irken Invaders are so 'superior'. Why can't Zim do this, you say? Because he's not a proper Invader, and because he's an idiot.**

**Hopefully I managed to write an interesting firefight, constructive criticism is welcome. And hopefully the fact that you have no idea who's speaking in the beginning doesn't turn you off. You'll find out soon enough.  
><strong>

**The prophecy itself was largely inspired by the Eldar prophecy appearing in Codex: Necrons. The first time I read "And the galaxy shall mourn." I got fucking chills. This probably isn't the last time that Warhammer 40k will lend inspiration to my story. If you want to see the prophecy which inspired this, go to Lexicanum (the 40k wiki) and look up Necron Quotes, it's on that page.  
><strong>

**Title comes from Job For A Cowboy's song "Coalescing Prophecy", which fits because the prophecy is already starting to fall into place, and because it had the word 'prophecy' in it. **

**Next chapter is going to feature Zim again. So yeah, please review, if you liked it :D**


	4. Chapter 3: This Fire Burns

**Chapter 3: This Fire Burns**

Zim quickly stalked through the skool hallways, a triumphant look in his downcast eyes. It was the first day back at skool and he was headed to his study hall's classroom, instead of his actual first period class. _But Dib won't be there, not today, _he thought, repressing the urge to laugh maniacally in front of all the humans around him. Darting through crowds of the fools, he came to B203. He stopped and collected himself, then strode cockily inside.

The usual suspects were there. His class had hardly been separated at all since the first year he had arrived, and the kids had grudgingly come to accept him. Checking the seating chart up front, Zim saw that as usual his seat was in the front of the row closest to the door, which sat just in front of him to the right. Walking up to his desk, he met eyes with Zita, who had sat behind him for as long as he had been on this mudball. Zim noted that she was sporting a healthy tan, and that her hair had been freshly dyed its customary shade of pink. As Zim approached, much to his surprise, Zita gave him a dazzling smile, and said "Hiya, Zim! How was your summer?"

Zim panicked like he always did when Zita spoke to him. Zita had begun exchanging pleasantries with Zim when High Skool first began, and they had talked to each other during their study halls ever since. Zim was confused as to her motives, but she always defended him from Dib, and he actually considered Zita his only friend among the humans. Zim knew that her other friends couldn't fathom why she was nice to him, but he cared not. He fumbled for a response to her question, "S-satisfactory. AND YOURS?" he shrieked, mentally cursing himself for not following the humans' conversational norms.

Zita giggled, and said "Oh, mine was alright. I went to Daytona, how about you?" She leaned across her desk towards Zim. He panicked, because he had no idea what to say to that.

"I, uh... went on a cruise! Yes, that's it." He smiled, trying to remain calm. He failed, and started to sweat slightly.

Zita tilted her head in curiosity, saying "Oh really? Where about?" Zim looked about, and caught sight of the map hanging from the teacher's board. He exhaled loudly as a story began to put itself together in his thoughts.

Zim calmly slid into his social persona, saying "The Caribbean, we stopped in the Bahamas and Jamaica."

"Sounds like a good time, did you party it up there?" Zita asked, giving Zim a knowing look which only demonstrated that she didn't know Zim very well.

Nodding sagely, Zim said "Yes, I consumed copious quantities of delicious alcohol. So much so that my digestive system revolted. REPEATEDLY!" He stopped, realizing that was probably the most idiotic thing he had ever said. He tried to gauge whether she believed his bold faced lie or not. Zita was staring at him, her face blank. Then she started laughing.

"Ahahahaha! Oh, Zim. If you've never drank before, you could have said so!" she said, gently touching Zim's shoulder. Zim fought the urge to scream, or to recoil. He put on his best smile, which looked a little wooden.

"Alas, my… parents are too strict. I was forced to wait on them during our cruise, and had little time to meet other kids on the ship." He swallowed, hoping this sounded more believable. Zita looked at him with pity.

"I know what you mean. Mine are alright as long as I keep my grades up, but I can't even get a B- or else they'll ground me." She smiled once again, saying. "But don't worry, Zim. I'm going to throw at least one party before the semester's over, I'll be sure to invite you. You won't last long in college if you don't get some practice now!" As she said this, she reached over and PATTED ZIM ON HIS WIG! Zim fought down his panicked urge to make sure the wig stayed affixed, and swallowed.

_It's just a silly gesture of... what? Affection? No matter, just don't panic!_ Zim thought. "Many thanks, Zita." He smiled again, hoping she would change the subject. Unfortunately, she did.

"Speaking of college, where are you planning on going?" she asked. Zim sighed, for this was one dilemma he was facing in his future. Zim's grades were good enough to earn him many scholarships. It helped that he had hacked the skool's databases and raised his grades in history to match his other subjects. With that, he was now bombarded with universities wanting him to attend. But he knew NOTHING about college apart from it being the final educational level for human children and that it was obscenely expensive, apparently.

Zim merely shrugged and said "I haven't decided yet. What about you?" He swelled with pride at having expertly deflected her question.

Her phone vibrated on her desk, she reached down checked her 'textual messages' and began typing one of her own. As this was going on she said, not even looking at Zim, "Well, I'm thinking about IU, Indiana University, because they've got a great journalism school there." She looked up at him thoughtfully, and then her eyes lit up. "Haven't you been taking lots of business courses?" she asked.

Zim nodded. He had taken Marketing courses, and found that the pathetic humans were often too scared to turn down his pitches. "I suppose I have been," he began.

"They've got a great business school too! You should give them a look, you might really like it there," she said excitedly. Zim looked at her and could find no lie in her eyes.

"Maybe," Zim said, and smiled sadly. He had come to understand a lot more about humans, and Zita seemed to care about him. The thought of his sole friend on Earth being destroyed along with her race was almost more than Zim could bear. But such was the duty of an Invader. The fire for conquest burned within Zim's chest, even when he was at his lowest. He tried to tell himself that he would no longer need her when he conquered the world, but the words sounded hollow to him.

Amidst his conversation with Zita, Zim barely noticed that Dib wasn't there. _Good, _he thought, growing hostile at the mere thought of the human who dared strike an Invader.

The bell rang, and Miss Bitters slithered up from the shadows. The students, when they received their schedules in the summer, were dismayed to learn that Miss Bitters was somehow their teacher again. "Welcome, class. I hope your summers were doomed! And furthermore…" she snarled.

"Can you believe it, Zim?" Zita said from behind him. "The day I got out of her classroom in 5th grade was the happiest day of my life, and here she is again!"

Zim leaned his head back and astutely replied, "Yes, Zita, it is truly unfortunate." She giggled like she always did at his quaint speech, and Zim grinned.

Miss Bitters had switched gears to rant and rave about how they were all going to become whores and alcoholics in college, and that they would flunk out within a month of moving in. She didn't even bother to take attendance. As the bell rang for the real first period class to begin, Zita stood up and held her arms out, smiling brilliantly at Zim. Zim, dumbstruck, tentatively took her in a hug. "I'll see you around, Zim!" She flashed another dazzling smile and walked off down the hallway, as Zim haltingly told her the same thing.

Zim put it out of his mind as he walked off to AP Government, and the first day of his senior year began.

* * *

><p>Zim threw open his front door and walked into his living room, settling down on the couch. It had been a long day. He didn't even look up as GIR ran around, squealing incoherently and stopping to roll around on the floor. Nothing was out of the ordinary with that in the slightest, and so Zim closed his eyes and thought about Skool.<p>

"ZIM!" His computer shouted stupidly. "There's been a message from the Armada!" Zim perked up at that.

"The Tallest have sent me a message?" he shouted excitedly, already hurtling towards the kitchen. Mounting the toilet sitting conspicuously in the middle, he rode it down into the interior of his base.

"Negative. It came from Skoodge." Zim deflated at that, but it would still be good to contact his friend to learn of the Armada's progress. He walked through his laboratory, where a variety of half-assembled weapons lay on workbenches.

Eventually, he came to a large chair sitting before a large wall of monitors. "Computer, hail Skoodge for me." He reclined in the chair, and waited for his message to reach the pudgy Invader. The monitors lit up, and Skoodge's chubby face appeared. He smiled at the site of his friend.

"Zim! It's good to see you! I don't have much time though," he said. He looked around worriedly. Zim immediately sensed something was wrong.

"What's the matter Skoodge?" Zim asked, growing suspicious. "There's something you're not telling me."

Skoodge sighed, and sat there quietly for a few seconds. Zim was about to repeat himself, when Skoodge began speaking quietly. "The Tallest have called all the Invaders back to _the Massive_..." Skoodge's next words were cut off by Zim's jubilant cheer.

"YES! I knew they wouldn't just let me languish on this pitiful rock! Thank you Skoodge, I'll be there shortly! Oh, there's so much to do!" Zim shouted, and rose from his chair. "Thanks again, my friend. I'll see you on _the Massive_!" He pressed a few buttons, shutting off the monitors before poor Skoodge could get another word in. "GIR! Get your things; we're heading back to the Armada!" Laughing like mad, he ran off to prepare for his return to his people, the passion for war burning in his chest like a thousand suns.

* * *

><p>Skoodge sat back and shook his head, chuckling sadly. At least Zim knew he could come back to the Armada. Even if he didn't know the Tallest hadn't remembered to send him the message the others had gotten. Skoodge and Larb, the only Invaders who had managed to conquer their worlds by themselves, had already been on board <em>the Massive, <em>and had been told that the others were being summoned.

Skoodge hadn't even needed to ask if Zim would be contacted. He had decoded the message, and knew that his friend wouldn't receive one. He had talked it over with Larb, who was preparing for a strange mission where he was attached to an Elite unit as it attacked Galastrix, and who would return to _the Massive _after the world fell. They had agreed that they couldn't let Zim rot on the dirtball planet he had landed on. Skoodge was also curious of Larb's mission, but knew his friend would tell him whatever he could when the time came.

So Skoodge had contacted Zim's weak signal coming from the far edge of the galactic west. But his friend had scarcely heard a thing Skoodge had to say to him. But as long as his friend had his Voot Cruiser, he could track _the Massive_, and that's what mattered. Skoodge was just happy to have helped his oldest friend.

* * *

><p>Zim nervously watched Zita as she talked and laughed with some of her girlfriends at her locker. All was ready, save... this. And Zim wasn't even sure what <em>this <em>was. But he refused to leave without an explanation.

"Zita," he said as he walked up to them. Zita's friends sneered at his approach, but she shooed them away, and turned to wrap Zim in an excited hug. They rolled their eyes and left, leaving the two of them standing at her locker.

"Hi, Zim. What's up?" she said, going back to taking out her textbooks for her next class. Zim stood there dumbly, trying to remember what he had rehearsed before.

"I'm moving," he began. She stopped and looked at him, shocked and distressed.

"Oh no! I thought something had seemed off yesterday. I just couldn't figure it out!" she said. Zim was shocked to see how upset she was; Zita looked on the verge of tears.

"I know this is terrible," Zim began. "But I just wanted to thank you... for everything. A girl as smart and pretty as you has no reason to be friends with a weirdo like me." His voice actually started to break. "And I know that was never an issue for you, but..." he stopped and looked away for a second, before continuing stronger than before, saying "it meant more to me than I can tell you."

Zita blushed at that, and Zim saw a tear in her eye. "Oh, Zim. Come here!" she said, and wrapped him in a crushing hug. "You're too sweet," she said, not releasing him. She let go, and said "We've still got Facebook. Keep in touch, okay?" Zim had despised the Book of Faces which students used for... fuck all as far as he could tell. But he had made one to fit in, and had slowly gathered a mighty 250 'friends' on it.

"Of course," he said quietly. "I have to go now. My parents told me I could come to say goodbye." Zita nodded, and wiped her eyes before embracing him once more.

"I'll miss you, Zim" she said softly. Zim's heart felt as warm as it had on the night he had waffles with GIR, but it also was heavier than he could ever remember.

"I'll miss you too. Goodbye" Zim said, and walked out of High Skool for the last time.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Zim had decided he was ready. Entering attic of his base, he opened the cockpit of his Voot Cruiser, packed to the gills with all the technology from his lab that he could fit, and sat down in the comfy chair. GIR was sitting in the small, and above all, sealed sidecar which Zim had added. Before the little robot was a quartet of television screens, showing tapes of the Scary Monkey Show. GIR hummed contentedly as that infernal monkey went about his business in four different episodes at once.<p>

Before he started the engines, Zim sat back, and thought about earlier that morning. He would indeed miss Zita, and he was grateful for her kindness while he had been on Earth. Despite all this, he was positively giddy at the thought of joining the Armada for Operation Impending Doom II, even if it wasn't to present his designated planet to the Almighty Tallest.

His mind was afire with thoughts of war and destruction. He knew that the Tallest would reward him well for the great deeds he saw in his future. Shoving down his regret and sadness, Zim shrieked with glee as he gunned the engines of his Voot Cruiser towards the ceiling, which opened up to allow for his exit. The Cruiser screamed through the night sky and soon he was leaving Earth's atmosphere, and was flying through space.

Punching in the coordinates for _the Massive, _Zim shouted, "ON TO THE TALLEST!" as his ship entered hyperspace, leaving the Earth, and his failed conquest, behind.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes:<strong>

**Hooboy. I honestly don't know how the fuck I got started on this Zita thing. All of a sudden I was staring at three pages of it. But don't worry, Zim isn't going to wangst about it. Hopefully this doesn't come across as cheesy, but I don't understand women/love at all so it's possible. **

**Oh, and yes, that is a shameless plug for IU, which is the college I'm currently attending. To be fair, I didn't say anything false, and I could have mentioned our awesome music school and nursing program. But I digress.**

**Title comes from Killswitch Engage's song "This Fire Burns". 'Even through the darkest days, this fire burns'. This refers to Zim's ever-present passion for the Irken cause. Zim's a fanatic, make no mistake.**

**The plot's really moving now, so stay tuned for updates. Please review if you liked it :D**


	5. Chapter 4: This Calling

**Chapter 4: This Calling**

Three days after Zim took off into the sky, Dib strode out of the hospital doors with his eyes downcast, his sister and father at his side. As they got into their dad's sleek sports car, Professor Membrane looked back and said "Now son, if you want to go Parkouring with your little foreign friend again, try to stick to two stories or less, okay?" Dib looked up, his eyes blazing.

"You still don't get it, do you Dad? Zim, THE ALIEN, tried to _kill me,_" snarled Dib. "But as usual, you just brush everything off as me playing around with him." Gaz snorted at that.

"I didn't brush it off when you raised the dead, son," Membrane said sharply, as he began to pull out of the parking lot. Dib threw up his hands and groaned in exasperation, and Gaz chuckled evilly again. Membrane continued, saying, "But since you've been hanging out with that little foreign boy none of that nonsense has happened. Clearly he's a good influence on you." Dib's jaw dropped; he was left utterly speechless at the non-logic his father had just employed.

Gaz piped up from Dib's left, saying "I heard that Zim's moved." She didn't even look up from her Game Slave 2. Dib jumped in his seat like he had heard a gunshot. He forgot himself and grabbed his sister by the arm.

"Where'd you hear that? Who told you?" he asked. Gaz took a second to pause her game and then glared at her brother.

"Newspaper class. Zita's editor-in-chief. I heard her telling one of her stooges. Seemed pretty sad about it. _Let go, now,_" she said, totally deadpan. Dib recoiled from her, no longer paying attention. Zim had slipped away. The best hope he had of being taken seriously by the Swollen Eyeball Network was gone.

"What am I going to do now?" asked Dib, as his father and sister carried on, not paying attention to him in the slightest. He gazed stupidly out of the window for the rest of the ride home. He didn't even get out of the car when they arrived at their house, so his father carried him up to bed. There was pity and something else in his eyes, almost totally hidden by his goggles.

"I love you son, so please don't do anything like this again." Membrane said softly, and tucked Dib in. As he left the room, he flicked off the lights.

Dib lay in bed, but got no sleep. Zim's voice echoed throughout his head once more, saying _you should have left me alone._ Dib wondered once more whether it was right.

* * *

><p>Dib's next two days at school were a blur. The only highlight to them was as he passed by Zita's locker on the second day; as he passed she turned and glared at him. "You just couldn't grow up. You couldn't have just left him alone, could you?" she snarled. Dib ignored her, and just kept walking. Her question, though, had sent chills running down his spine.<p>

As Dib lay in bed that night, his thoughts turned to the Swollen Eyeballs. They would scorn him when they learned the only semi-credible paranormal entity he had to offer them had vanished. He'd have to get plugged in somewhere else, he supposed, but he didn't have the energy to even do that. He heard a faint creaking, and the sound of his window being opened. He looked up, and his jaw dropped as he beheld the face that would change his life forever.

She was slight, and shorter than he was. She had short double-jointed legs, and two short, straight horns crowned her forehead. She was clad in a light grey cloak with its hood drawn back, and at her belt was a small assortment of gadgets that Dib had never seen before. She had light brown skin, and curious bright yellow eyes which regarded him coyly. She was an alien, and she was standing in his room.

"Greetings, little one," she said. "You gave me quite a scare that day on the rooftops." When Dib, who had been trying to think of something to say which wouldn't make him sound like an idiot, heard that he ended up spluttering out a bunch of nonsense.

"Little- wha... roof... Buh?" he blurted out. Dib blushed immediately, realizing that he had just screwed up first contact for his entire race. That was a new low. Surprisingly, the goat-lady chuckled.

"I would have helped, but I couldn't let the Invader know that you've been marked by us." Dib had regained his composure and raised an eyebrow at that.

"Marked? By who now?" The yellow eyes flashed, and the goat-lady stepped down off his windowsill.

"Where are my manners?" she asked. Bowing extravagantly, she said, "My name is Sharn Taar. I am a Vortian, and we have noted your resistance to the Irken Invader. We believe that you could be a valuable agent against the Irken Empire, with some proper training." Dib's mouth was once again hanging open in disbelief.

"You're asking me to leave my world with you, to go off and fight Zim's people? IN SPACE?" Dib asked giddily.

Sharn Taar frowned. "I thought I'd have to cajole you some more. Shit, if I was ordered to, I have the capabilities to abduct you and bring you with me." Dib suddenly was looking suspiciously at her.

"How do you know English?" he asked, backing away. He wasn't sure this wasn't some sort of cruel prank anymore.

"Vortians are naturally talented with linguistics. And I've been here since that incident where _the Massive _nearly wiped out your world. You have no idea how close you were to extinction that day. My commander likes to say that we saved the day, but we got lucky, same as your species, little one." She shook her head, and continued, "My commander told me to watch the one who had hacked _the Massive_ and had distracted it from us. He thought you might be useful someday. We knew we couldn't just take you and abandon your world with an Invader still present, so I waited." Sitting down at his desk, she spread her hands before her, saying, "Anymore questions, Dib?"

"Why now? Zim's still out there, I just lost track of him. He's even more dangerous now, because there's nobody trying to reveal him for what he is." Sharn Taar held up her hands at that.

"Actually, Dib, Zim went offworld five days ago." Dib made an odd whistling sound, like he was about to explode with indignation, but Sharn Taar continued. "He's probably still making small hyperspace jumps to get to the Armada."

Dib sat and brooded on this for quite a while. Looking up, he asked one last question. "Can we warn the government?" Sharn Taar looked uncomfortable, and even a little embarrassed.

"I understand wanting to warn your people, believe me, I do. But that could jeopardize everything, because what if they capture me and cut me up? And frankly if the Irkens make it to your world, no amount of preparations will save it." She said quietly. She looked up with a haunted look in her brilliant yellow eyes, saying "My world fell to them. You haven't even reached hyperspace travel yet. I don't mean to be rude, but you don't stand a chance. This is the best way."

Dib thought about the alien's offer for a long time, turning over in his head the pros and cons. He could very well die, but on the other hand this was what he lived for. He would get expelled for playing truant, but he could always find work with his father. He would miss Gaz, but on the other hand that was a blatant lie. But he kept coming back to one thought: if there was a chance to save Earth by going and helping this goat-lady or Vortian or whatever, then he had to do it. Dib looked around his room – his home – and sighed. "Take me with you," he said finally.

Sharn Taar smiled. "Thank you, little one. You're doing the entire galaxy a service. Come with me," she said. As they left, the lights flickered on in the kitchen, and Dib saw Gaz step onto the back deck. His sister leveled her gaze at him and folded her arms. Dib looked to Sharn Taar pleadingly. She nodded, and said "Go to her, but quickly."

Dib approached, and prepared to speak, but his sister held up a hand. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" She looked past Dib and took in Sharn Taar impassively, as if nothing about the Vortian was out of the ordinary. "Oh. Aliens. How _atypical_ of you, Dib. Just don't get hurt," she said coldly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Dib actually smiled at that, for it was way nicer than she normally was. He gave his little sister a hug, and she said "Dork," but she still squeezed back.

Dib couldn't think of anything to say, so he turned and went off into the night with his newfound alien friend. His sister stared at them as they left; the Poop Cola she had come downstairs to get lay forgotten. "Stay safe, big brother," she whispered, and went back inside, lost in thought.

* * *

><p>Dib and Sharn Taar trekked through the woods until they came to a clearing. Sitting there was a spherical... spaceship, he supposed. It was brilliant chrome, and where Zim's Voot Cruiser was propelled by four thrusters in the corners of its underbelly, Sharn Taar's fighter's engines were nuzzled in an odd lattice affixed to its rear.<p>

Sharn Taar flicked a control from a device on her belt as she approached, and the engines flared to life, glowing with bright blue propellant. Nestled beneath the front of the fighter was a pair of weapons that left Dib staring in bemusement. She looked up at him and said. "My Wrilk fighter isn't really that impressive; it's got stealth capabilities though, so I stick with it," she said, climbing into the cockpit. "It's going to be cramped, but my commander's ship is only a hyperspace jump away."

Dib climbed up slowly, taking in what he was doing and trying to tell himself that everything would be okay. As he hunkered down in a small seat behind Sharn Taar, which was too small for him, he whispered "Goodbye, Earth. Dad, Gaz; I promise you'll be safe, even though none of you will know that I was the one responsible."

"Your father would be proud if he knew what you were doing," Sharn Taar said, as she prepped the ship for take-off. Dib wanted to believe her, but he wasn't so sure. His father would probably brush it off as him wasting time with paranormal science.

_Oh well,_ thought Dib, as the fighter took off into the night sky, and away from his homeworld.

"You know, entering space like this should be more exciting to a member of a pre-FTL race such as yours," Sharn Taar said as they left the atmosphere. Dib snorted.

"I once piloted Mercury in a dogfight against Zim and Mars. I've seen it all," he said dismissively. Sharn Taar looked impressed with him for the first time.

"Piloting a craft that size is no easy feat, especially for a first-timer. What was it like?" she asked with interest. Dib shuddered as he recalled being nuzzled between Mercury's butt cheeks in the cold void of space.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said sheepishly. The starfighter was now in space proper, and the moon was looming up on Dib's left hand side. "Are we ready to make the jump yet?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

"Yes, if you're absolutely sure about this," said Sharn Taar, turning to look him in the eyes. "This might be your last chance."

Dib gulped, but closed his eyes and said, "Do it." Although he felt sick to his stomach, he cautiously opened one eye to see what FTL travel was like. As Sharn Taar flicked a switch and pressed a trio of buttons, the stars before them seemed to lengthen out, and suddenly they were hurtling through space at paces faster than Dib's mind could comprehend, although to Sharn Taar and Dib they appeared to be flying normally through a pale blue tunnel of... something. A whole lot of something, something scary and unnatural. Dib decided that keeping his eyes closed was the right idea.

* * *

><p>They seemed to hurtle through hyperspace forever. Dib showed his experience with spaceflight by managing to fall asleep in hyperspace. Sharn Taar smiled at that. <em>The little one is very brave for such a young Earthling, <em>she thought, _and we'll need him to be if the war will be as fierce as we fear. _Close to a day later they came crashing through the tunnel, entering realspace once more.

Dib blearily looked around him as he was startle awake, feeling the change. Looking around, he took in a blue giant star and five small, barren worlds in tight orbits close to it, their surfaces wracked by the unimaginable heat pulsing from their sun.

Closer to them, incredibly distant from the azure star, was a fleet, a vast cloud of ships in dozens of different styles. Dib saw ships built with organic fluidity and brutal practicality; ships shaped like armored alien insects and ships evocative of bladed predatory fish from some marine biologist's worst nightmares; he saw a contingent of ships which bore an uncanny resemblance to Earth battleships and aircraft carriers, only ten times bigger and equipped for space; he even saw a cluster of ships which resembled nothing more than giant space-bound _paramecium_. There were hundreds of ships here, and dozens of what Dib guessed to be capital ships. Dib gaped in awe at the sight of such a force.

"I was wondering when I would finally manage to impress you. We might be smaller than a proper Irken Fleet group, but we're all hard-bitten warriors who've cut our teeth on the worst the Empire has to throw at us," said Sharn Taar, smoothly gliding through the crowds of starships. Dib was still looking around, mouth agape as it had been for much of these past days.

"Who are you? What is this?" Dib asked, his eyes widening as they approached a bulbous ship with the same chrome sheen as her fighter bore. It was a great, round affair. Its shape vaguely resembled a massive flying wing, like the stealth bombers back home, but impossibly big. The most massive of the ships they had passed would only take up roughly a third of its mass. Batteries containing dozens of enormous weapons of various types swiveled all about it, leaving no point of approach safe. _Taking this ship from any direction would be a bloody prospect,_ Dib thought.

Sharn Taar beamed proudly at the approaching leviathan. "This is our fleet, like I said. And we are..." She paused for dramatic effect, then her voice rose, saying, "The RESISTY!" She looked back at Dib, expecting more awe and reverence. Instead she received laughter.

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" Dib guffawed. "What kind of a name is 'the Resisty'? At least call yourselves something like the Irken Resistance Front, or Alliance or something. Come on! It isn't that hard to come up with a good name..." Dib trailed off at the glare Sharn Taar was leveling at him.

"I'll forget any of that just happened. We're fighting for the freedom of all our peoples and I won't have that mocked by a pre-spaceflight _child_," she stated flatly. Dib could see that he had upset her, so he decided not to inform her that he was 18 and therefore an adult, thank you very much. He apologized profusely but Sharn Taar waved it away as they docked. They were greeted by a creature that resembled nothing more than a purple floating cone with a face, with a thin pink... manipulator emitting from the top of its head. It wore a utility belt, for what purpose Dib couldn't fathom. "You won't be able to understand any of us quite yet. I'll tell him that we need to fit you with the translator microbes."

Before Dib could ask her what she meant, Sharn Taar approached the floating cone and started speaking, but instead of smooth English, her voice was a barking tone in an alien language. The cone responded back with jabbering that sounded like a monkey on amphetamines. The only detail that Dib could pick up was that neither one was speaking the same tongue. There were too many differences in words, the structure and syntax were clearly different as well. _Those microbes must allow them to hear everything in their own tongue, _thought Dib, _that's... really convenient, I guess._ He brushed the thoughts off as Sharn Taar beckoned for him to come with them.

Dib strode down mirrored hallways with the pair, passing by dozens of rooms full of babbling technicians speaking a dozen tongues, gun decks, and other rooms he couldn't discern. They halted at a room with a strange glyph above it, which Dib was mystified to the meaning of.

The levitating cone-thing chattered at a beleaguered green-skinned being with six spindly arms, clad in a white coat. Looking around, Dib guessed they were in an infirmary of sorts. The alien doctor beckoned him to come forward, and Dib timidly stepped up. The doctor gestured towards a chair, which Dib sat down in, trying to control his breathing.

Pressing a button, the doctor watched as a half dozen metallic limbs descended, binding straps to hold Dib in place and bringing an assortment of trays into place. They retracted back into the ceiling when they were done. Dib watched as the doctor entered in a small set of instructions, and dialed a few more buttons. An intimidating device descended, bringing to bear minute tubes scant centimeters away from Dib's eyes, nostrils, and ear holes.

The doctor flicked a switch, and the tubes sprayed forth a fine silvery mist, which soaked into Dib's facial organs. Dib felt an odd scurrying sensation for a millisecond, which then abruptly stopped. Dib felt no different and started to protest, getting ready to ask Sharn Taar how long this would take, but the doctor held up a single hand to stop him. The doctor seemed to be counting off a time in his head.

Roughly thirty seconds passed, and the doctor lowered his hand. "Hello, Dib," he said, startling the Earth boy. "My name is Dr. Verd-Rik. I'm chief medical officer on board. I just implanted you with universal translator microbes. They're in your head now, and have transmitted your language to mine, which is what we were waiting on. Now every person who encounters me and whose microbes interact with mine will learn English, in a sense. They'll at least understand what you're saying should they encounter you, just in their own tongue. Any questions?"

Dib was left dumbfounded. "None, actually... sir," he said. _I'll get the in-depth low-down on it some other time. _Thanking the doctor, he turned to Sharn Taar. "What now?" he asked; he wondered what would be expected of him now that he was able to communicate.

Sharn Taar gestured at the floating cone, saying "This is Shloonktapooxis. He's been with the Resisty a lot longer than I, and he's..." she began, but the floating geometry interrupted her.

"I still think we should have been named the Pirate Monkeys though! Hi! I'm Shloonktapooxis! My friends call me Shloonktapooxis! It's a pleasure to meet ya!" it shrieked in glee, talking a mile a minute right in Dib's face. "We're really glad to have you here but we probably wish we'd never met you because that's what led our old ship to your world and your world's where we had to employ the shrink-self-destruct on our old ship and that was really bad but if you hadn't led us on that chase we probably would've been killed by the Irkens so THAAAANKS!" The alien inhaled ridiculously loudly, and then beamed stupidly at Dib. Dib tried to look to Sharn Taar for help, but she was too busy facepalming.

"Shloonktapooxis, didn't the commander want to see us?" she groaned. The doctor stood behind Shloonktapooxis making strangling motions with six hands, ignoring the futility of trying to wring the neck of a living geometric problem.

"Ohhhh that's right he did!" Shloonktapooxis laughed, "I'll take you guys to him just follow me!" Sharn Taar's eyes went wide.

"No!" she cried. "Don't... Don't you have other orders to see too?" The cone shook himself, his face adopting a blank stare. Sharn Taar sighed. "Go play," she ordered, completely deadpan.

"OKAY!" shouted Shloonktapooxis who dashed off, laughing like a jester. Dib let out a sigh of relief, and the doctor smoothed his lab coat, which had gotten ruffled as he had pantomimed strangling the hyperactive alien.

"Doctor, we'll be leaving now. It was nice seeing you, as always," said Sharn Taar, bowing as she stepped out into the hallway. Hurriedly tossing out a farewell, Dib strode after her, the thought of being lost on this ship terrifying him.

"So let me get this straight," he began as he caught up to her. "Your supreme commander of this behemoth of a spaceship, your flagship unless I'm mistaken, has _that _guy as one of his close retainers?" Sharn Taar laughed out loud, walking with a carefree attitude she hadn't displayed since he had met her.

"Shloonktapooxis is one of the originals, Dib, just like I was. Like he said, he was there when the Resisty fleet consisted of a single Vortian cruiser," she said wistfully, thinking back to the old days as they continued walking through the endless hallways. "And I know he can be grating sometimes; believe me, _I know._ But he keeps morale up. He spends a great deal of his down time in the wards visiting the wounded and the shell-shocked, cheering them up. He keeps our crew sane in these hard times. I'm sure Shloonk can't remember all their names, but I've heard that _literally everyone on this ship _knows him, and most would tell you the same thing I just did: they can't stand him, but couldn't imagine living without him." Dib had nothing to say to that; he just nodded thoughtfully.

They entered an elevator. A cheery sounding voice boomed out as they approached. "Greetings, friends! How can I assist you today?" Sharn Taar punched in a button and ignored the artificial voice.

Cheesy synth beats flowed out from speakers embedded in the walls. Dib groaned. "Why in the world would you have elevator music in an intergalactic society? I'm not being interrogated, am I?" Sharn Taar giggled at his exasperation.

"You are amusing, little one," she said. "It's just the way things are." Dib rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Don't worry, Dib. We'll be allowed some rest once the commander is finished seeing us." Dib certainly hoped so.

* * *

><p>Eventually, the elevator dinged as it reached its destination, which according the glowing diagram on the walls was the bridge. "You are now arriving at the bridge! Please watch your step! Have a fantastic day!" called the elevator program. Dib was glad to be rid of the sickeningly happy virtual being.<p>

As they entered the bridge, a multitude of races went about diagnostics, communications, and various sundry tasks. A few gave bored glances at him as they heard the door open, and a few looked intrigued at the new species now aboard the ship. In the center, atop a chair which raised and shifted itself to be anywhere its passenger wanted on the bridge, sat another Vortian. This one was very different from sleek, stealthy Sharn Taar, however.

The Vortian wore navy blue armor, which was heavily scarred, and had a series of pock marks across the left chest plate and pauldrons, where it had apparently been strafed by some sort of automatic weapon. The goat-man's right arm was a massive iron bludgeon, surmounted by two enormous clawed digits, with a third sitting opposite and between them like a talon-y, crushing thumb. The arm's rear end, behind the joint where it was bound the Vortian, terminated into a stout spike. His right eye had a large red lens over it, with several streams of bright green data filtering down it. His face was heavily scarred, but he appeared healthy and strong. A scabbarded swords hung at his left side, and holstered just above it were a pair of sleek black pistols, their ends terminating in blade-like triangular tips.

Remembering all he had ever heard, seen, and read about pirates, Dib fought the urge to chuckle at how stereotypical the Vortian looked. That claw alone looked like it could crush Dib's skull, after all. Dib stood behind Sharn Taar, waiting for their audience.

The chair pivoted around and lowered itself towards them. The Vortian crossed his fingers before his face, his natural arm looking comically small compared to his cybernetic replacement. He eyed Dib, and then spoke with a commanding voice. "Name's Lard Nar; I'm Lord Commander of the Resisty. Nice to meet you, Earth boy. What's your name?"

"D-Dib Membrane, sir!" he said, throwing up an awkward salute. Lard Nar gave an unimpressed grunt.

"Well Dib, welcome aboard _the Corsair_. She's a _Matron-_class Dreadnought, and there's only three of them in the galaxy. Largest model of ship in the Milky Way too, at least until the Irkens decide to compensate for something even further than they already are," he said with a grin. "We're the Resisty. We're the organized remnants of militaries whose homeworlds have fallen to the Irkens' advance. Only three of the races represented in our fleet have significant numbers of ships outside our ranks: the Vortians, the Lortak, and the Chentians. My own people and the Chentians have significant colonial territories beyond our homeworlds, and the Lortak are warriors and had great fleets fighting elsewhere at the time and over their two colonies. They've put themselves at the service of the Grond until they can reclaim their world. Either way, those three races have mostly joined the official 'Galactic Unity Alliance', which we're working with to stop the Irkens at all cost." Lard Nar reclined a little in his chair, and gestured for Dib to ask any questions he had.

Looking around, Dib tried to think of something to ask his new commander. "What are you going to have me do?" Dib asked, genuinely curious. Although he seemed much taller than many of the aliens he had seen on deck, he was still cowed by their warlike demeanor. He had no doubt that most of them could kill him in half a dozen ways if he made the wrong move.

Lard Nar scratched his chin in thought. "Well, since you've been actively engaging an Irken Invader for close to nine years, we figured we'd make you an operative like Sharn Taar. That's no mean feat; Irken Invaders are incredibly dangerous." Dib's face, still marveling at the bridge around him as he listened, snapped back to look at Lard Nar, his face a mask of horror.

_They think that Irkens as stupid as Zim are incredibly dangerous,_ thought Dib with dread. _Is it possible that I'm going into a war with an army of idiots __**worse **__than the ones I left behind on Earth?_ That would be just his luck; never competent help to be had, oh no. Dib put on a wooden smile and nodded. "I did do that, and it _is_ fairly impressive. And what would I do as an operative?"

Lard Nar held up his cyber-arm. "Not now. You need training first and then we'll start easing you into missions and the like. You should get some rest for now. Sharn Taar will show you your quarters. Come by 'tomorrow' for the assembly. It'll answer a few of the questions you're too afraid to ask here," he said with a knowing smile. Dib blushed, and threw a clumsy salute again before departing with Sharn Taar. Lard Nar's chair rose up and he went back to directing the workings on the bridge.

Sharn Taar and Dib made small talk on their way to Dib's quarters. Dib learned that Dr. Verd-Rik was a Chentian, and that Shloonktapooxis was a Shooleroo, a name which he found he couldn't say without giggling. As they arrived in the first hall of the N-wing, Sharn Taar explained that this was where operatives and special forces like them were quartered. "Since you're new, I convinced Lard Nar to get you quartered in my hall. But don't come knocking at night because you've had a nightmare, little one," she said jokingly. "Here we are," she said as they arrived at room N7. "Well, you must be tired, so I'll see you at the assembly." She smiled and waved farewell with one of her little hands.

Dib walked inside, and took in the small dorm. Its walls were white. It had a simple bed, a desk, a monitor of some kind protruding from the wall, what appeared to be a cabinet similarly built into the walls, a comfy chair to sit in, and a small closet.

Dib walked around and inspected all of it briefly. He then undressed himself and flopped down in bed. Despite all the wondrous things he had seen, he was exhausted, and soon found himself drifting off into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Be warned, this one's a doozy.**

**So soon? Yes. I hammered this one out as quickly as possible as a present for you, dear reader, and especially to my dedicated reviewers, DoomTaco and LittleWingedMage. Seriously, you guys make me feel awesome about my work and I can't thank you enough for that.**

**I spent pretty much all of one night typing this up in between periods of studying for a Psychology exam that I have today (the day this is uploaded). Looking at its beginning, and especially the previous chapter, it feels kind of rushed. Like I glossed over how difficult Zim's feelings are to deal with for most of us in the real world, how Dib would struggle with the decision to leave his home for the unknown in the galaxy, and Membrane and Gaz's feelings, in favor of HERPDERP GTFO EARTH YOU GUYZ. At some point I'll probably come back and touch these parts up, add some depth to them, etc.**

**Additionally I'd like to address the change in tone. I know that you guys have said you liked the dark, over-the-top tone of the first few chapters. But these past couple (and Chapter 2 suffers from this a little as well) have been lighter, less of... however you want to describe the prologue & Chapter 1. Last night, I realized it's because of how I've been feeling lately.**

**It's been kind of a rough time. School's been piling up, which was why there was such a gap between the first two installments and between Chapter 2. In Chapter 3, I went with a much more emotional tone dealing with loss and sadness. Zim having to say goodbye to Zita and the feeling of loss surrounding that situation come from an incident where I'd had a minor falling out with a female friend of mine. It ended up morphing into something I'd really hoped to keep out of my fic: angst. Hopefully it's not too much. But I digress.**

**This chapter seems to have recovered its composure, which I feel I have as well. In my head anyways, I've squared myself up to make amends with my friend. Thus, the ultra-hammy narration and dialogue of the first two chapters will be returning soon. Whether it's due to me feeling confident enough to wax poetically, or due to rage and hate taking the story to darker places than before, it's coming. So look forward to the next chapter. Because the grimdark and the ham are coming back in full force, haters gonna hate, and we're going back to Galastrix, bitch.**

**Chapter title comes from All That Remains's song "This Calling". It fits because Dib is hearing, well, 'this calling'. He's answering a call to something greater than him, because he knows he has to.**

**Yes, my FTL travel is unashamedly ripped off from Star Wars hyperspace. Yes, I stole Mass Effect's 'translator microbe' idea in order to deal with several dozen language barriers. And yes, Lard Nar is now basically a badass space pirate warlord. Deal with it.**

**Also: 'Shloonktapooxis'. This is the kind of word you find yourself adding to your Word's dictionary while typing up an Invader Zim story. Now if I misspell it while typing, Word can actually have a suggestion for me with the correct spelling, instead of 'No Suggestions'.  
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**Thanks again for reading and please leave a review if you like it. Especially those of you who haven't yet: (Pretty please?) let me know that more than two, maybe three, people are reading it. Thanks again, and take care :D**


	6. Chapter 5: Warborn

**Chapter 5: Warborn**

Artillery boomed against the northern side of the Palace, sending a small gallery and a section of the ramparts tumbling to the streets below. It was a towering behemoth, at once elegant and brutally efficient. Long sections were exposed to the outside, protected with crenellations which had been repurposed into gun emplacements. From afar, Telex could be seen crowding the defenses. Two large gates sat ominously facing the attackers, daring them to test their mettle. Stretching before the southern approach to the Palace was a massive plaza, which had previously been used for city assemblies, was a hastily erected series of trenches and earthworks. A few bombed out buildings, sitting between the plaza and the Palace grounds, had been converted into shoddy bunkers. Massive rolls of monofilament wire had been stretched across the courtyard, creating choke points here and there. A dozen or so destroyed tanks lay scattered across the terrain, testament to the armored offensive which had driven the Irkens from the Palace grounds.

Here and there, Telex could be seen scurrying between the defenses. The majority were remaining in hiding, waiting for the Irkens to make the first move. They had made the most of the frantic warning they had received from Lortak, and the whole city within a block's distance of the Palace was fortified, although much of it lay under Irken control now. Smoke hung thick in the air, and small fires still burned across the plaza. The once-pristine skies of Galastrix were now overcast with an ugly gray shroud.

Crowded in trenches, bunkers, and tunnels, the 4th Shock Army of the Irken Armada waited for their orders. About nine thousand of them had reported in, nowhere near total strength, as the deployment had spread them to all corners of the sprawling city. General Kiir had received an Invader in his headquarters, and was now briefing him. The Elite squad he had arrived with stood still, silently eyeing up the Palace with disinterest. A crowd of Grunts had gathered, anxiously asking what the Elites knew about the plan. The brutish sergeant had growled at them to get back in line and shut up, and they fearfully had. And so they waited.

The captains began to receive their orders, and the orders funneled down to the lieutenants, who began informing their soldiers of the plan. Artillery would engage the guns on the Palace so they wouldn't be able to strafe the infantry as they advanced. The Elites and Grunts would advance over the defenses, and push their way to the Palace. Air support was busy engaging the Telexes' remaining fighters, but the Irkens wouldn't have to worry about air strikes falling upon them. As this was going on, a stir went up from the Irkens near the command center, a bunker which had been shattered by repeated rocket strikes.

The general and his staff strode purposefully towards the front. Amongst their ostentatious uniforms of a dozen colors was an Irken in the plain, bright red of an Invader, sticking out like a sore thumb. Larb didn't look at the Irken Grunts as he passed them by, trying to ignore their awed expressions. They made him uncomfortable. The Elites just looked at him with professional detachment. He was relieved to be back with Vyprec and his squad. He had come to know and trust them all; Wryd, Alak, Trig, Rorl, and Brev with the rocket launcher.

The scarred sergeant didn't take his eyes off the Palace as Larb joined him on his right. "How was the brass, sir?" he asked, sounding bored. Larb was amazed at how well the killer instincts had been honed with this one.

"Fucked, as per usual," Larb said with a grin. "Basically the general has his heart set on an all-out assault, and thus has no idea what to do with me. So he stuck us in the vanguard." He cast a sidelong glance at Vyprec as he said that. The Elite's eyes were gleaming, and he was nodding in approval.

"Can't fault him on that logic, Invader," the sergeant growled, allowing a slight smile to grace his brutal features. His squad voiced their approval as well. Vyprec looked up as General Kiir nimbly ascended to a vantage point in the midst of his troops. "Hush now, Invader. The general's gracing us with one of his speeches."

General Kiir was possessed of a lanky frame, but his gaunt body belied his respectable height. His viridian uniform was encrusted with service medals, and he wore great pauldrons of mirrored steel. A black, hairy pelt, taken from some great beast on a faraway world, was draped across his shoulders. His general's baton hung from his belt. His voice was amplified throughout the ranks, and he spoke with clear pride in his troops.

"My brave companions of the 4th Shock Army! Today, we cut out the heart of Galastrix's resistance. Today, we gain glory for the Almighty Tallest!" his voice boomed out, and the troops cheered. "This is going to be a tough fight, and thus it falls to us. The Irkens of the 13th Fleet are the Iron Fists of the Tallest, and WE are the greatest warriors within it!" Again the Irkens gave a roar of approval, affirming their resolve to their beloved commander. "Normally, I would regale you with tales of Irk's greatness, and tell you of how we shall smite the inferior species. That all changed when I learned that the 73rd Siege Army think they shall take the Palace, and are even now advancing to take your glory out from under you!" The soldiers cried out in dismay, denying it, and swearing they wouldn't let Kiir down. The general raised his hands, quieting them in an instant. He resumed, "Thus, today all I have to say is this... KILL! Kill for the Empire, for the Tallest, and for me! Earn this honor for yourselves! Go, SHATTER that Palace! KILL! _THEM_! **ALL**!" He bellowed, pointing at the Palace.

A shrill whistle echoed across the lines, and various captains stepped atop the earthworks, as per their orders. Hoisting their swords into the air, they looked back to their troops and shouted their battle cries. "Purity and death!" some screamed. "For the Tallest!" or "For Irk!" cried others. A great wordless roar was ripped from the throats of nine thousand Irkens as they rushed towards the Telex emplacements. Artillery boomed behind them, and explosions blossomed along the walls of the Palace like fiery flowers.

Larb took a deep breath as he went over the top, into the fight. Vyprec and his squad were ahead of him, but he closed the gap, his feet pounding along the hard packed dirt. All of a sudden, they were under attack. Laser fire chiseled through the air, and Irkens fell left and right. Larb heard the familiar rhythmic thud of kinetic field artillery and an explosion to their right sent rubble and Irkens flying through the air. Larb flinched, but kept running. The advance continued unabated, heedless of casualties. He had to make an effort not to outpace Vyprec's squad. As they neared the berm in front of them, Vyprec howled with fury, which Larb and the five Elites took up. Larb bounded ahead of his squad and leapt over the earthwork effortlessly.

Bounding over the lip of the berm, Larb came face-to-face with a Telex desperately reloading his rifle. Larb instinctively brought his gun to bear and shot the alien in the face. Bright green blood spewed out, coating Larb's face with an emerald paste. The Invader fumbled his hands to his face, wiping desperately to regain his vision. He jumped down and landed at the base of the berm, wheeling to the left on the balls of his feet. Firing two shots, he took down a Telex running full-tilt at him with his bayonet lowered. He saw a flash on his right, and turned to see his squadron hit the Telex.

The first thing Vyprec did after getting over the wall was murder someone. The burly sergeant stabbed a Telex in the guts, and withdrew it with a sickening sucking noise. Vyprec drew his head back and slammed his forehead into the dying foe's face. The Telex reeled to the dusty ground, his life pouring out onto the dirt. Vyprec stepped over him and began firing into the Telexes further ahead. The others downed a few enemies in close quarters, but the Telexes were already pulling back. Brev slid into cover behind a notched column, which had probably been hurriedly dragged into position as cover. Larb dashed across and joined him. The Elite glanced over and nodded.

"Invader," he said, sighting targets and firing controlled bursts at any Telex he could see. Larb peered over the cover and beheld the battlefield. The Irkens were advancing, slowly. More and more were swarming over the first defenses. The Telex soldiers had fallen back, and were now firing upon their former positions. "We're in the middle of it now, eh, sir?" asked Brev with a mischievous smile.

"Indeed," Larb replied, "they're falling back, though. This is too easy." Brev ignored him, and laughed as he made a kill. Larb couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the Telexes' tactics. Vyprec ducked down next to Larb, and thumped him on the shoulder, shouting.

"Get down!" Larb and Brev went prone without question. A sharp whistling filled the antennae of the three Irkens, as a rain of mortars hit the Telex before them. "Go, go, go!" shouted Vyprec, vaulting over their cover. Larb and Brev scrambled after him. Larb saw Wryd hop out of a foxhole, blood pouring down her right arm. Rorl, Alak, and Trig dashed out from a ditch, covered in dirt hurled up in the explosions. The six Irkens charged the shattered Telex line, and began butchering the dazed survivors.

Larb's knife flashed in the firelight, slashing all around him. He gutted three Telexes; his flickering steel splitting open his foes. Vyprec stood above a shallow trench, gunning down a half dozen Telexes who had avoided the mortar barrage, his mouth stretched open in a crazed rictus of joy. Wryd walked among the wounded with her pistol out, jamming its barrel to the head of any who had not succumbed to their wounds. She dispassionately put them out of their misery, one by one. Brev hurled a grenade into a foxhole, and poured fire into the Telexes who scrambled to get out of the doomed position. Rorl, Trig, and Alak were behind cover, suppressing nearby enemies while their squadmates killed every impurity within reach.

Larb drew his knife from his latest kill's chest, looking around for more Telexes. Suddenly he heard Irken voices shouting, and he was tackled into a nearby trench. Spinning, he saw that it was Alak, who cried "Stay down, sir!" Before Larb could ask what the lanky Elite was doing, a large aquamarine beam swept over where he had just been standing. There was an explosion where the beam impacted, before it began to sweep over a wide area. Larb shuddered, realizing how close he had been to his death. "Turbolaser," Alak said, peering over the top of the trench. Larb could see it now, a boxy turret near the top of the Palace, rotating as it continued its sweep of the ground seized by the Irkens. A rocket whistled overhead, causing Larb to flinch as it screamed towards the Palace.

A cheering wave of Grunts was suddenly overrunning their position, charging headlong towards the enemy. Looking up, Larb saw Vyprec kneeling at the edge of the trench, offering a hand up. "We're not going to let Grunts take the Palace, are we, Invader?" His brutish features were twisted into a genuine smile, and Larb grinned despite the destruction going on around them. Taking Vyprec's hand, he hoisted himself over the trench, while Alak scrambled over and rejoined the squad. The noise of the artillery rose in a thunderous crescendo as the Palace was pounded with ever greater force. Larb was flooded with relief as he saw the turbolaser blown apart under repeated strikes from above.

The Telex soldiers were falling back in droves, abandoning their posts in an attempt to get away from the Irkens. Larb felt a surge of confidence, and quickened his pace, catching up to the front. His earlier misgivings evaporated; the Telexes' tactics were flawed because they were flawed. _They can't stop us,_ thought Larb triumphantly. The Grunts cheered him and looked at him with awe in their eyes. Larb felt exultant, reveling in the glories of the battlefield. This was where warriors like him were at home. This was his purpose. With a light heart, Larb looked around, knowing that the day was theirs.

Suddenly, it all went terribly wrong.

With a shimmer of electric blue, a tall Telex in golden armor appeared in the midst of the Irken Grunts in front of him. In his hands he held a long staff, with a wicked curved blade at one end. At the other was a strange sort of weapon that Larb couldn't identify. He wore a helmet with a reflective visor; nothing could be seen of the alien's eyes. A flowing, golden cloak hung around the Telex's back. _Must be a Palace Guard_, thought Larb, remembering them being mentioned in the briefing.

To their credit, the Grunts around him reacted immediately. They stepped back, readying their guns, and a few drew their combat knives as they suddenly found themselves confronted in close quarters. These were Irkens of the 4th Shock Army, and despite Larb's professional disdain for them and their inferior PAKs, he knew that these Grunts were not green recruits, but warriors of the Armada. None of that was enough to save them, however.

Whirling his staff in a dizzying pattern, the Telex took them apart. Irken limbs flew through the air, and the black ichor that ran through their veins sprayed everywhere. A trio of Irkens charged the Telex, a brave but stupid display. The alien simply leveled the other end of his staff at them, and a blast of pressurized air blew the three of them through the air. Larb's sharp eyes noted that they were covered in terrible burns. The cries of horror and pain echoed from both sides of the line. Larb didn't need to look to know that this alien had brought some more of his friends, and that they had been cloaked as well.

It was over in a moment. Larb and the other onrushing Irkens were now the only targets. The alien's dispassionate visor looked towards him, and the alien's mouth creased, as if he had smelled a bad odor. _He must've recognized my uniform_, thought Larb. He knew that Invaders were shoot-on-sight targets for most races across the galaxy. Most of the others would capture Invaders because they preferred to torture them first.

Stepping forward purposefully, the Telex swung his staff's bladed end, in a strike almost too quick for the eye to follow. Larb slid under it, but the Grunt beside him wasn't so lucky. An Irken head landed to his left, a pained expression etched on its face. Larb spun up, furious and heedless of the Grunts who were scattering in panic. "Filthy Telex! You dare raise a blade against your genetic betters?" he shouted, drawing his knife with a flourish. He darted in, hoping to take the alien off guard. The blade streaked upwards, driven by the Invader's indignant fury.

The Telex intercepted the blow with the haft of his staff. The bladed end spun up and hurtled down towards Larb. He brought his pistol up, and swatted the blade aside. He tried to call upon his PAK, but its systems were still trying to reproduce the combat stims he had used up in the melee earlier. He traded blows with the Telex, each move calculated and precise. Larb swept his knife across in a wide horizontal slice, and he regretted it immediately.

The Telex's blade whistled in, and sliced through his side. The wound was not too deep, but white hot agony ripped through Larb as he slumped to the ground. His beleaguered PAK flooded his systems with painkillers, desperately trying to keep him in the fight.

Larb looked up, and blearily saw the Telex standing over him. The alien gave a salute of some sort with his bladed staff, and brought it up slowly. Over the cries of the retreating Grunts, the artillery rumbled out in a single discordant note. Larb closed his eyes to the sound of his death knell, and prepared for whatever lay beyond.

Suddenly, he heard Irkens shouting, and one flinty voice rose over the others, saying, "GET THE FUCKER! SAVE LARB!" His eyes flew open, as the Telex whirled around. It was met with a head butt from Vyprec. Larb watched in awe as his trusty squad of Elites threw themselves heedlessly at the foe that had effortlessly cut down dozens of Grunts.

The Telex rolled with the impact and came up on his feet, spinning and stabbing his polearm in a corkscrew motion, throwing a flurry of blows at the Irkens. They nimbly dodged around and deflected any blows coming too close to them or their squadmates. The Elites were fighting like gods, but none were able to land a blow on the alien. Larb noted dazedly that the artillery was growing ever louder, and saw in his peripheral vision that the Palace was being pulverized beneath the barrage. Mortars were falling here and there across the line, and smaller explosions from squad heavy weapons detonated in other places.

Suddenly, the Palace Guard kicked out at Wryd, striking her in the side of her knee. As she twisted and fell, the Telex's blade languidly slashed outward and neatly sliced off her wounded arm, just above the elbow. She screamed shrilly as she fell. Larb watched as Alak and Trig moved to stand over their downed comrade, snarling. The Telex took a step back and as his blade parried a blow from Vyprec behind him, the other end shimmered. Trig saw this coming, and tackled Alak out of the way. The blast clipped them, and both of their uniforms trailed wisps of smoke as they hurtled away from their foe. Gritting his teeth and forcing the pain to the back of his mind, Larb began to push himself up.

The Telex didn't even pause as Alak and Trig narrowly escaped being fried. Sliding his hands across the staff, the Palace Guard gripped it just below the blade and swung the other end like a bludgeon. Brev and Rorl were bowled over by it, Rorl's uniform smoking from where the still-hot blaster had impacted him. A strange, choking hiss echoed from under the Telex's helmet, what Larb assumed was the degenerate creature's laughter. Black Irken blood pumped from the slit in his side, but he put it out of his mind. Slowly, the Invader pushed himself to his feet, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him.

"Fucker!" Shouted Vyprec as the Palace Guard closed in on him. The stout Elite sergeant threw his knife at the alien, but it just clanged off of its visor. Lowering his heavy blaster rifle, the sergeant started firing, yelling incoherently. The storm of blaster bolts failed to penetrate the strange armor of the Telex, but the impacts were forcing it back, slowly. Larb took in the scene as he stood up. Rorl and Brev were standing up behind the Guard, mad fury shining in their eyes. Alak had crawled over to Wryd, and Trig was beginning to pick himself up. Larb called on his PAK, and a long, sharp, spider-like limb slid out just above his shoulder, as the Palace Guard began to advance upon Vyprec.

With the spider leg hugging his side, Larb stumbled towards the duel like a sleepwalker. His mind was screaming to move faster and to save Vyprec, but his body refused to obey. As he neared the Palace Guard from the rear, Brev and Rorl tackled the Telex's legs out from under him. He stumbled and fell but recovered immediately. The blade swung about before the Telex, arcing towards the two Elites behind him.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Vyprec screamed, as he threw himself in the path of the blade. As the blade cut into his side, he gripped it with both hands, and held it there, roaring as the Telex struggled to free his weapon from the pugnacious Irken. The alien's helmet tilted, and Larb saw his chance.

Calling upon what little energy his PAK could afford him, he leapt through the air, his PAK's limb raised and aimed at the Palace Guard's exposed neckline. Larb's heightened senses took in the duel as he inexorably flew towards the Telex. Blood was pouring from Vyprec's side and his hands. He smile and spat blood at the Guard, muddling his visor. Brev was looking at Larb, his eyes going wide. Rorl didn't notice the Invader; his fist was connecting with the Telex's side, to little avail. Further on, Alak was cradling Wryd, the stub of her other arm swathed in bandages. Larb saw Trig staggering towards the Palace Guard as well, his teeth clenched in pain, loosely gripping a combat knife.

The spider leg shot towards the Palace Guard. It was an ugly strike, a brutal stab powered by desperation. The Telex saw it coming at the last second, but didn't have time to turn as the gleaming limb pierced his neck. Bright green blood sprayed forth, splattering Larb's front side. He withdrew his PAK's extension with a sickening _squelch_. The Palace Guard fell away from the Invader, crawling on his hands and knees away from the Irkens. As the strange polearm fell from the Telex's grip, Vyprec grinned and sat down. Ignoring his hideous wounds, he wheezed "Now that... was a fight."

Rorl and Brev rushed to their sergeant's aid; Rorl stopped to kick the Telex back to Larb's feet. "He's all yours, Invader," he grunted, returning to help Brev treat Vyprec. Larb raised his spider leg once again, and looked down at the dying Palace Guard.

"You fought bravely, but you must pay for the crime of shedding Irken blood," he intoned dispassionately. Larb closed his eyes and thrust downward. Pulling the limb free, he had it retract back into his PAK and limped over to Alak and Wryd. Trig was lying sprawled beside them, utterly exhausted. "How is she?" Larb asked Alak, fearing the worst. Wryd looked very pale indeed.

"She'll make it, sir. But I think..." Alak halted as Grunts swarmed over their position. The distant artillery grew to a thunderous crescendo and a shell hurtled overhead, dangerously low. Larb flinched as the front gates of Galastrix's Palace were blown apart. A great cheer went up from the Grunts, who were once again flooding past the Invader's squad. Larb's sharp eyes picked up the figures of Telex soldiers pouring back through the gate, apparently readying for their final stand.

The battle swiftly moved inside, and the artillery died down as the Irkens flooded into the Palace. Larb was amazed the building was still standing after the pounding it had taken. He didn't doubt that there were no survivors of the Telex gunners who had been positioned on the ramparts. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to find himself facing General Kiir and a score or so of his staff. Larb threw a hasty salute, and realized he was the only one of his squad currently able to. The general returned the salute with a smile. Flicking his hand towards the battered Elites, a trio of medics fanned out to treat them. "Marvelous, you all," Kiir said quietly. "We saw the fight through your helmet cams. Absolutely marvelous." Larb kicked at the dust, embarrassed.

"But I'm in no shape to continue the fight, sir." Larb felt his antennae flatten in shame.

"My boy, do you realize that you're the only group that managed to kill one of those damned Guards in close combat? All the others had to resort to heavy weapons." The smile still hovered over the general's face. "You've done enough, Larb. You boys are heroes."

Larb looked around at the death and destruction around him. Smoke choked the skies, and fires raged throughout what had once been a beautiful city. Far off, tanks could be heard blasting at some unknown foe. He looked at Wryd, who had lost her arm. He looked at Vyprec, who looked as if he should be dead, but who managed to give the Invader a lopsided smile. He stood surrounded by heaps of dead Irkens and Telexes, lying together in death after they striving against each other in life. "Thank you, sir," he said at length.

The General patted him on the shoulder and started walking towards the palace, chatting with his subordinates. Larb watched him go for a moment, before walking over to help care for his wounded comrades.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**I don't have much to say today apart that I'm sorry it took so long for me to update.**

**The chapter's title comes from the song "Warborn" by The Black Dahlia Murder. It really should be self explanatory.**

**Please leave a review if you like it. :D**


	7. Chapter 6: Crawl Back

**Chapter 6: Crawl Back**

Zim watched as his Voot Cruiser exited hyperspace, careening for the end of the second to last jump he had to make in order to arrive at Lortak. Space around his ship seemed to stretch and warp as the Cruiser slowed down from the relativistic speeds of hyperspace. The Irken took in his surroundings as the ship began to coast.

The system had five worlds, in tight orbits around a small yellow sun. Zim's keen eyes could pick up what looked like multiple space stations orbiting the last planet, a small, dull rock of a world. He could probably ask his computer to identify the system he was in, seeing as he didn't recognize his location, but he didn't care enough. The dashboard before the Invader flared up, a host of colored lights flickering like the fireflies back on Earth. His computer spoke up, shouting despite its close proximity to Zim. _Rather like GIR, come to think of it,_ thought Zim.

"CALCULATING FINAL JUMP, ZIM," the computer screamed. Zim grimaced, and went back to his brooding. He was uneasy with coming back to the Armada without knowing why the Tallest had called the Invaders back together; despite the excitement he had initially felt over returning and seeing his Tallest again. He wanted to learn more so as not to embarrass himself after arriving.

"Computer, send out a call to Skoodge," he said. "And don't interrupt us. If your calculations are finished, wait until I'm done speaking with Skoodge."

"AFFIRMATIVE," the computer intoned, and a comm sensor extended from the Voot Cruiser, sending Zim's call across the galaxy to _the Massive_ and to Skoodge. He was vaguely aware of GIR watching some human drivel in the cargo compartment of the Cruiser. He could hear the characters shouting in some ridiculous language he had never learned. _Must be those 'animes' again_, he thought idly.

A viewscreen slid up from the dashboard, and for the moment there was nothing but static on it. A picture slowly came upon it, and Zim beheld his pudgy friend sitting at his desk. "Oh, hello Zim! Are you on your way?" the chubby Invader asked.

"Yes, I am inbound for the Armada. I called to ask if you know _why_ this summons has been sent?" he asked. He wasn't really in a mood to chat, despite the fact that talking to Skoodge had kept him sane during his years on Earth.

Skoodge shook his head. "No one does. It's an order from the Tallest, for all Invaders to return, no matter where they are," he said. Zim gritted his teeth, frustrated but unsurprised with the secrecy behind the decision. The Tallest loved the unveiling of things such as this, and so they likely didn't want word getting out. Most Invaders had a small group of their fellows they were particularly close to, and any word of the reason for an order such as this would spread fast.

"Ugh, fine," Zim sighed, exasperated. "How has the war been going?" He hadn't talked about Impending Doom II with Skoodge in a long time, and had lost track of its progress.

Skoodge clasped his hands together and leaned forward. "Good and bad." He stopped to pull up a galactic map, and dragged the holograph over so Zim could see it. "We have nearly doubled our borders since the beginning of the operation." He pointed at the red territory of the Irken Empire in the northeast quadrant of the galaxy, and Zim nodded. _So we have,_ he thought, but something else was drawing his attention.

"Why do all these sectors have a gold border around them?" he asked pointing at a large cluster of them together, to the west of where Irken territory lay. He may have recognized them once, but the many years on Earth had ruined that.

"That's the bad news," Skoodge sighed. "We've ceased to be 'someone else's problem'. An alliance is gathering to fight back, keep us in our space." He started pointing at the various sectors of space as he began to list them off. "The Vortians are spearheading it, and they've been joined by the Chentians, Grond, Ch'tak, Skreeans, and others."

Zim nodded, saying "We knew that this would happen eventually." At the mention of fighting against the Empire, he remembered something. "Are we still facing raids by this 'Resisty'?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Skoodge shook his head. "They've stopped, but we suspect that has to do with this" he said, pointing back at the allied sectors. "It's been just under a year since the raids stopped. Gone, without a trace," he said.

Zim wasn't surprised. "Obviously they plan on adding their fledgling fleet to whatever ships these pathetic races have thrown together," he said. He was surprised to see Skoodge shake his head.

"Their fleet isn't so little anymore, Zim," he said. "They've consistently grown after each sector of space that we take. They're being bolstered by the survivors." The pudgy Irken stopped, looking down at his desk. "I'm being called to the hangar, I've got to go. I'll see you in a while, okay?" he said, smiling at his friend.

Zim nodded, smiling in return. "Alright Skoodge, I'll see you when I arrive. Farewell."

"Farewell, Zim." Skoodge reached down to his desk, and the transmission went dead.

Zim sat, brooding on what his friend had told him for some minutes, when finally he was rowsed from his reverie by his computer shouting at him. "ZIM, CALCULATIONS ARE COMPLETE. SHALL I MAKE THE JUMP?"

"Yes, do it," he said simply. As his Voot Cruiser began to jump into hyperspace, Zim closed his eyes and tried to get some rest before he returned to the Armada.

* * *

><p>Supreme Commander Zark looked down on Lortak through the viewports of the bridge of the <em>Massive<em>. The huge ship was hanging in low orbit, with the rest of the fleet surrounding it in a protective shell of metal and death. Through the massive clouds of ash that were choking the sky, he could see massive fires burning here and there, as the savannahs and forests were wiped clean for the industrialization to come. Lortak would make a fine armory planet, in time.

Around the bridge, Irken operators and technicians went about their duties. Sitting at their consoles, they received comms transmissions, relayed orders, and calibrated the systems of the Armada's flagship. Their faces were masked, and there was no emotion in their eyes. All was well.

Above the bustling bridge, standing atop a floating dais, were the Almighty Tallest. Red was standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back, and Purple was leaning forward onto a guardrail. Both were silently watching the activity going on around them; Red stoically, and Purple with an air of boredom. A stand next to them held a box of pastries from around the galaxy, which they occasionally would begin munching on. Their baroque armor stood in stark contrast to the non-combat uniforms of the bridge staff.

"Commander," a voice spoke up from Zark's left as he slowly walked along the bridge. A young female operator was waving to get his attention. "I think you should see this, sir."

Strolling over to the operator's console, Zark bent over to see what it was that had drawn her attention. "Yes, Operator Miek?"

"A Voot Cruiser has just entered the system." _A Voot Cruiser? How quaint,_ thought Zark. "It's broadcasting an Invader signal."

Now that got Zark's attention. "You're sure?" he said, trying to make sense of the streams of data flowing across her console's screen.

"Positive, sir. It's an outdated one, but it still checks out," she said uncertainly. She looked up at the Supreme Commander, unsure of how to proceed, but he was already walking away. With purposeful strides, Zark began to ascend the steps to the summit of the Tallests' platform. His head bowed, he stood respectfully behind them.

Silence reigned atop the dais, before Tallest Red finally spoke up, barely turning to acknowledge the Supreme Commander. "What news, Commander?" he said coolly.

"A Voot Cruiser broadcasting an old Invader signal is inbound for the Armada. I thought you would like to know, my Tallest," Zark said. Both Tallest perked up at this, although Red seemed confused by the news. Before anyone else could speak, a voice called out from the bridge. A comms operator had turned and shouted up at the three leaders.

"The Cruiser's hailing us, my Tallest. Orders?" he asked deferentially.

The Tallest looked at each other, and nodded. "Bring it up on the viewscreen, Operator," Purple ordered, still sounding bored out of his mind. The huge viewscreen slowly slid up before the windows, a grandiose display that ensured all on the bridge took in whatever transmission was incoming. There was a crackle of static, then the viewscreen flared to life, revealing the pilot of the errant ship.

The Tallests' jaws dropped.

"HAIL, MY TALLEST!" Zim screamed ecstatically. Beaming like an idiot, the Invader waved both his arms wildly as he shrieked at the Tallest. "I have returned, to wage war upon the pathetic creatures that would dare to resist our advance!" Remembering who he was talking to, he hastily threw the Irken salute, clenching his right fist and thumping it against his left shoulder. With the same stupid grin, he awaited for a response for the stunned Tallest.

Seizing the moment, Zark strode forth. The Tallest didn't even notice the breach of protocol, they were still stupefied at the return of the Irken they hated the most. "Zim, dock in the _Massive's _hangar. I shall meet you there. _Massive _out," he said, gesturing for the operator to kill the transmission. The transmission thankfully went dead before Zim could let off a torrent of protests as he normally did.

Purple, clenching his bionic talons, slammed his fists down on the rail before him. "HOW? How did he know we were calling them back?" Red turned to Zark, glaring daggers at him.

"Commander, what on Irk are you thinking telling him he is free to dock?" he asked angrily. Zark held up his hands hastily.

"My Tallest, Zim was once our finest weapons developer. He was a fine Invader, who simply couldn't keep from destroying. We can _use_ that, especially with the changes coming to the Invaders." The Supreme Commander braced himself, expecting a tirade. He was not disappointed.

"Use him? He nearly destroyed Irk! He is the **sole** reason that Impending Doom I never took off!" shouted Purple. Red shook his head with disgust.

"Commander, this was not well done," he said, plainly. "How exactly are we going to use Zim?"

Zark carefully picked his next words. "Heavy assault on light targets not worth a full strike force from the Army. Zim can tear through these targets; we all know this to be true. He was more adept at destruction than any Irken I have met in my life. And he is _disposable_," he finished, grinning evilly. The Tallest looked at each other for a moment. They seemed to reach a consensus, nodding to each other.

"The path has been set," intoned Red.

"The path has been set," answered Purple, turning to Zark. "Very well, Commander. Go and greet the Invader. See that he is taken care of, and for your sake, hope he can deliver what you have promised." The Tallest turned their backs on Zark, dismissing him. Bowing low, Zark strode off.

_If I am lucky, that will be the last empty threat they make against me this month_, thought Zark, holding back a smile. Exiting the bridge, the Supreme Commander marched towards the hangar, to greet the latest tool in the Empire's arsenal.

* * *

><p>Zim gripped the controls on his Cruiser, an excited grin plastered on his face. Soon he would be back with the Armada and reaping a glorious vengeance upon the Tallests' foes. Diving and climbing to avoid a medley of ships, he weaved his ship through the fleet clustered around the flagship. Zim recognized the markings on the various sizes of warships. This was the 66th, 'the Starbreakers', a fine fleet with a mighty reputation. His heart swelled with pride at the thought of serving the Tallest directly once more.<p>

He had been slightly put out by having to wait to chat with his rulers, but even the wait couldn't kill his giddiness. He focused on the _Massive _as his Cruiser approached it. He had noticed that his Cruiser was seemingly outdated at this time, replaced by sleek red fighters like the one Tak had possessed. Zim put his ship's obsolescence out of his mind and began diving towards the hangar bay of the mightiest vessel of the Armada.

As soon as he passed through the energy shielding that allowed for passage into the void of space, he realized something was wrong. Trying desperately to land, he instead plowed down the tarmac, scattering mechanics and pilots everywhere. A terrible screeching sound tore at his antennae, but Zim could see that his Cruiser was grinding to a halt.

His Cruiser slammed in between two parked fighters with a jarring impact, sending him sailing into the viewports of his ship's cockpit. He recovered immediately, his energy in the face of greeting the Tallest knowing no bounds. Kicking the cockpit open, Zim nimbly leapt down and faced the crowd of angry Irken mechanics and pilots.

A quiet fell on them as they saw the bright red of an Invader, and they began to disperse, though they continued muttering and casting glares in his direction. _Let them vent, _thought Zim triumphantly, _for I am an Invader._

Zim closed his eyes and breathed in deep the smell of his people's greatest weapon. Currently, it smelled like metal, fuel, and burning, but it was home, of a sort. He began to laugh, shrill yet terrible. The galaxy would tremble before his gaze. He called out to the Irkens milling around. "Behold, dock-slaves! You bear witness to the advent of an Invader! I am Zim! And Zim shall rule!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: I would like to start out by apologizing for taking so long with publishing this chapter. Things piled up in the last weeks of school, and then I started working. But I'm back now, and promise to do better. I also apologize for this chapter being pretty short and kind of filler-y. I promise to do better soon.<strong>

**Chapter name comes from the song "Crawl Back" by Veil of Maya. Badass song, badass band.  
><strong>

**Please read and review if you liked it. :D  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 7: A Single Moment of Sincerity

**Chapter 7: A Single Moment of Sincerity**

Zim hopped down from his cockpit, landing languidly as a trio of Irkens stormed over to him. Their dirty, practical clothing marked them out as technicians of some kind. The tallest one, a stocky brute whose forehead came to Zim's chest, glared up at him. _It's been awhile, I really have grown tall,_ he thought. The skool's whale of a gym teacher had recorded his height at 'five foot nine'. Zim still had no clue what his feet had to do with it, but by his calculations the tallest would stand at seven feet, if they stood on the ground. GIR presently came up to his waist, at three man-foots or whatever they were.

"Where'd you learn to fly, Invader?" the big technician growled, puffing his chest out. Zim wasn't impressed, and his two companions winced. _At least they recognize my might!_ The Invader lightly pushed the angry mechanic out of his way. He began to walk over to the cargo hold of his Cruiser, and turned to regard them mockingly.

"_I_ learned to fly when I took Basic Piloting at the academies on Devastis, shortly before I became an Invader." He undid the latches and pulled the door open, and GIR leapt out, howling for tacquitos. "Where did _you_ learn to fly?" asked Zim as he turned back to regard the workers. He frowned at that; throwing the mechanic's insult back at him had sounded better in his head.

A vein bulged at the mechanic's temple. "You just wrecked some of the Empire's Fighters! So you can take that smug grin and..." He started towards the Invader, but his friends reached out and grabbed him.

"Calm down, Jik. He's untouchable, not worth it," said one. Whereas both had been less confrontational than their friend, the other two mechanics were now looking decidedly irritated at the Invader. Zim bared his teeth, eager for a chance to flex his muscles for the lower ranked Irkens around him.

Crouching down into a fighter's stance, he shouted "Let him go, you two! Let the fool earn an early retirement!" The mechanic struggled even harder, clawing at the air in a bid to reach him. GIR's sat on top a crate full of equipment from Zim's base, trying to fit it all into his mouth at once. The Invader tapped into his PAK, and his armored fists began to slide out and affix to his arms.

Suddenly a small officer stepped between them, holding his hands up, placating Zim. "Please sir, forgive him!" Turning to the others, he told them to be off, fussing as they hauled their friend away, glaring daggers at him and the Invader. As the gauntlets slid back into his PAK, Zim looked the newcomer up and down, unimpressed. The Irken was about as tall as the angry mechanic, he reckoned, but it was hard to tell since he stooped and bunched in on himself. He was wearing an operator's uniform in cyan, although his face was bared whereas normally its bottom half would be masked. The design around the Irken insignia on his small shoulder pads told Zim that he was a lieutenant. His hands worried over themselves as he stood there, regarding the Invader with beady blue eyes. "A thousand apologies, mighty scourge of worlds," he said. He spoke with a nasally, fawning voice that grated on Zim's nerves.

"Bah! You should have let me teach that worker a lesson in humility," he said huffily. "And why is no one here to greet me? I am an Invader! Where is my procession? Where are the Tallest?" he realized he was roaring in the meek lieutenant's face, and backed off slightly.

"I cannot speak for the Tallest, O terror of the stars." He looked down, his face wrinkling with displeasure. "But who can in these days?" he spat quietly.

Zim stood back in disbelief, but recovered quickly. "Watch your words, wretch," he growled, raising his fists again. The lieutenant flinched back, waving his hands desperately.

"No, no, no! Mighty one, I merely note that we cannot grasp their plans!" The lickspittle smiled, unconvincingly. Zim was prepared to question this treasonous talk further when a hubbub from the far side of the hangar drew his attention.

A door had slid open and a tall Irken in glossy black and scarlet was now walking with purpose towards Zim, ignoring the reverence the Irkens around him were displaying. Ten Elites with heavy blaster rifles swaggered before him, berating and threatening any Irken who didn't get out of the way fast enough. Even though Zim couldn't make out Zark's features, the Supreme Commander's armor was distinct enough that there was no doubt.

A high collar framed his face, and long coat tails flowed behind his legs, similar to the trail that Tak had worn; curious fashion statements which had originated in the academic fraternities of Devastis. He sported fashionably large pauldrons, not like the mountainous shoulder pads that some of the more foppish generals wore. Emblazoned in scarlet on his chest was the sigil of the Irken Empire. Surrounding it was the mark of the Supreme Commander: an intertwining forest of blades erupting outwards. It was so large that it took up his entire torso. On his right breast were a cluster of the more important medals he had won throughout his service.

"Oh, my," said the lieutenant, still stupidly wringing his hands in worry. Behind them, GIR interrogated some hapless Irkens about the location of clowns. Zim ignored both as Zark drew near, mechanics and other workers parting before him like that crazy old human with the sea in that one film. Zim got a good look at the finer details of the Tallests' right hand.

The Supreme Commander stood even taller than Zim, who wagered he was around six and a half stinky human feet tall. Zark's face was handsome, marred by a long scar that started at the crown of his head and ran down the right side of his face, behind his eye, and ended at his jaw. Rumor had it that he had gotten it in a knife fight with a professor at Devastis who had tried to fail him, which would have been the only black mark on his record. Zim dismissed this nonsense as rank-and-file rubbish, but had pondered the origin of the scar before. The palms of his gloves were bright red and had an unusual sheen to them, and there were tiny cables that fed into his gauntlets. His left shoulder pad was marked by an armored Irken hand, reaching down to crush a barren world wreathed in flames, while his right bore the badge of his rank. A blaster pistol was slung low on his hip. _Well, he's not the Tallest, but this is still rather grand,_ Zim thought idly.

The Supreme Commander had a reputation for being unreadable, and as his bright green eyes regarded Zim, the Invader knew that this was no mere rumor. Zim threw a salute, which the lieutenant followed quickly. Zark returned with one of his own. The Elites fanned out, projecting an air of nonchalance as they stood ready to mow down the workers around them at a moment's notice. The Commander stopped short of them and turned to the sycophant. "Lieutenant...Tral, was it?" The deck officer nodded, and Zark continued "Thank you for greeting our esteemed Invader. Why don't you see to it that his luggage is accounted for? You know where the others are quartered. If I remember correctly, room F8 is empty." The lickspittle nodded wordlessly and saluted before hurrying off, still wringing his hands.

Zim took the initiative and spoke up. "Commander, it is an honor, sir!" he shouted, standing rigid. The Commander chuckled, and to Zim's surprise, offered his hand. Zim reached out and Zark clasped his forearms above the wrist, an ancient custom that traced its way to the warriors of pre-spaceflight Irk. Zim couldn't believe that an Irken of such an exalted position was actually treating him with respect. _Don't mess this up, damn you_, his thoughts screamed.

"It's always good to have another Invader, Zim." Zark stood back and clasped his hands behind his back. "How fared your mission?"

Zim recoiled as if he'd been stung. He realized he had not thought of any way to blame someone else for his failure. "I... failed, sir. The humans were, uh, too MIGHTY! YES! The weapons they boasted on that planet were... uh, truly **TERRIBLE**!" He raised his arms for emphasis. The Commander regarded him impassively. Behind them, GIR gave a cry of delight as he rode upon a porter's head as she struggled to carry Zim's luggage away.

"Well, think nothing of it. I'm sure you tried your best," he said. _Ha! I am a master of deceit_, Zim thought to himself. "Very few Invaders did succeed; your friends Larb and Skoodge and a handful of others" Zark shook his head.

"Commander, if I may?" asked Zim. His superior paused, and then nodded in assent. "Why have the Tallest recalled the Invaders?" Zark looked down at him for a long moment, and Zim cursed inwardly as he tried and failed to read his thoughts. At length the Supreme Commander spoke up.

"I can't say. The Tallest have forbidden it. But I promise you'll know soon enough." Zark smiled. _Damn these secrets! _Zim raged inwardly.

"If I may ask, where are the Tallest, sir? Why would they not greet an Invader personally?" The Invader asked, trying to keep his voice level. The Commander responded, a little too quickly, though his face remained frustratingly emotionless.

"In their private sanctum. They are surveying the tides of the campaign, and weighing how each development ripples to change the tide of the war." While more poetic than Zim had expected from such a pragmatist, he still took note of the bold faced lie. Zim had seen the Tallest on the bridge himself. _They were perfectly unengaged,_ he thought, _looks like I must fight to win back their favor._ He made sure to keep his eyes on Zark and hoped his face didn't betray his thoughts. "Have you heard how the campaign goes?" The Commander's question roused him from his thoughts.

Zim shrugged and said "Little enough in my communications with the others." _It might not do to tell him about Skoodge's transmission,_ the Invader thought guardedly. Zark grunted.

"There is much to learn. I'll see to it that the necessary files are sent to your quarters." Stepping back, the Commander stroked his chin in thought, saying "Let's see, what's most important that you know... The Vortians have dug in at a corridor of five inhabitable systems, and have mauled four separate fleets attempting to smash their way through. Word has it that these worlds have tech even greater than the defenses we saw at Vort." That news may have meant something to Zim if he could remember anything about what had happened at Vort, other than his friend Larb being instrumental in its capture. _It's been too long, Larb,_ he thought, as Zark continued speaking.

"We've taken ten worlds belonging to the Chentians, including Chentia itself. Unfortunately, they've caught on that we aren't truly dropping the hammer on them and are in open revolt. Chent is the worst, it's a full blown war down there."

"Why not just withdraw and bomb them into submission?" Zim asked incredulously.

Zark paused. "...The Tallest have ordained that Chent and the surrounding worlds will be formed into resorts of various natures for the loyal servants of the Empire to vacation." The Commander almost sounded embarrassed. "Even the Megadoomers have been withdrawn, too destructive." Zim had been about to speak up again when the Commander continued, perhaps eager to change the subject. "What's most frustrating is that while they successfully defend their realms, we know that they're sending forces to join that alliance. Oh, did you know? We..."

Zim cut him off, "We've stopped being someone else's problem. Yes, **that** I had heard." The Commander nodded, and looked about to speak again, but suddenly something drew Zim's attention away from his superior officer. Zark noticed the Invader craning his head to the side, and turned to get a better look at what was distracting him.

Two figures had just emerged from the doorway the Commander had entered from, and as they watched, a third Irken came running after them. The three were wearing the distinctive all red uniforms of the Invaders, and were now running towards them. Zim cracked a smile as he picked out his friends.

Out in front was Skutch, who Zim had often derided as a failure when he was feeling jealous. Skutch was a lanky, plain-looking Irken who had been tasked with conquering some world in Vortian space. While he had successfully set fire to the major cities of the world, he had acted too soon and had been forced to flee for his life. Zim's resentment for his friend had waned in the years following this setback, and Skutch always seemed to empathize with Zim's lack of success. He noticed that the lanky Invader's belt was bristling with small metal objects of various sizes and shapes, and was intrigued to realize that they were explosives.

Right behind him was Tenn, a petite female who had been tasked with taking Meekrob. That had blown up when a Megadoomer intended for her had been accidentally shipped to Zim. She had gotten a load of defective SIR units in its stead, which had utterly destroyed the progress she had made, and alerted the fanatical Meekrob to the Irkens' intentions. The race of energy beings had declared war before the solar week was out. Tenn had quit talking to Zim for over a year after the incident before they had let bygones be bygones. Tenn now bore a dazzling smile as she raced towards Zim, proving that time heals everything. A pair of bandoliers crossed her chest, with braces of small knives running through them.

Bringing up the rear was Skoodge. He was still pudgy, although Zim noted with surprise that it appeared as though his friend's bulk had partially given way to muscle, and his uniform sported large pauldrons. Skoodge and Zim had been through a lot together, and even if Zim wasn't always a good friend, Skoodge was always there for him.

Zim looked up at the Commander, ready to apologize for getting so distracted, but stopped as Zark waved him off. "I'll see to it that someone gets the campaign updates to you. Talk with your friends." He gave a salute, and had turned to walk away by the time Zim had returned the gesture, his Elite escort leading the way. As the Commander walked towards them, Zim's friends shuffled to the side, throwing up salutes. The Commander waved dismissively, not breaking stride, and the three Invaders turned and ran at Zim again.

Skutch reached him first, running up and giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder. Tenn and Skoodge slowed their pace as they neared their friend. "Zim! It's so good to have you back!" cried the female Invader.

"How'd the rest of your mission go?" asked Skoodge breathlessly. The face of Zim's oldest friend bore a look of pure glee, and Zim couldn't help but smile. His friends had grown as well; Skoodge and Tenn were slightly shorter than him, while Skutch stood about as tall as Zim.

"It fared poorly," he admitted. "But I rose again, to rejoin the Armada!" he shouted, raising his fists. The others chortled at that.

"Still got a flair for the dramatic, I see," said Tenn. Irkens were known for their bombastic speeches, but this was usually held in check among close friends. Not so for Zim, however. "So what did the old Commander have to say?"

"What does Zark ever have to say? I bet Zim's _glad _we interrupted." said Skutch, smiling roguishly. Skoodge shook his head at that, and Tenn rolled her eyes. Throwing an arm over Zim's shoulder, Skutch continued, "No really! I've yet to hear _anything_ of substance from him. So, what _did_ he say, Zim?"

Zim was unsure how to proceed. "He was very welcoming, actually. We were still conversing when you arrived," he explained. "That's the reason he left; he told me to talk to you all..." He winced, wishing he hadn't sounded so accusatory.

Tenn gave Skutch a flat look. "Now look what you've done. We ruined Zim's lovely soiree with the Commander. Why don't we head to the Invaders' quarters and show Zim his room?" She asked, jerking a thumb back at the door the three of them had entered from. The others nodded and fell into line. As they set off, a question popped into Zim's head.

"Say, did the Tallest appear when you all arrived on the _Massive_?" The other three all shook their heads.

"Nah," said Skoodge. "Same as it was for you; Zark and some Elites. Rather curt and to the point, if you ask me." A slightly audible strain of machinery could be heard as the hangar door slid open before them. On their left, a pair of warrant officers walked towards the dock, eyeing up the Invaders with interest. One of their gazes lingered overly long on Tenn, who bared her teeth and sent the cur scurrying, much to the amusement of Skutch.

"Well, like I said, he seemed rather friendly when I spoke to him," Zim asserted. The four Invaders had come to an intersection, and stopped while crewmen guided several hover-carts bearing ammunition down the other corridor. "So Tenn, Skutch, where were you deployed when the message was sent out?" he asked, eager to change the subject. _The Commander is very powerful_, he thought to himself, casting suspicious glares at the passing workers. _It wouldn't do to upset him._

"Well, I was garrisoned on Chentia," said Tenn. "I was attached to a company of Grunts and we were assigned to sweep some rebels out of a valley." Skutch nodded enigmatically.

"Same here, I was hunting military remnants down on Lortak's savannah," he said, pointing downwards at the planet below. As he spoke, they turned a corner to the right. At the end of the corridor was a white door with outlines in the same red as the Invaders' uniforms.

Zim brooded on these tidings. _We were the advance scouts of the Armada_, he thought. _Tasked with bringing an entire world to heel, and now look at us._ The Grunts and Elites fought the battles; the Grunts with skill imprinted through hard training, and the Elites with bloodlust bred through a lifetime of killing. The Invaders were there to ensure that the toughest worlds fell before either was needed. _The Invaders of days long past must weep,_ he thought bleakly.

"Invaders, reduced to mere attachments," he mused. His three comrades went quiet. Skoodge coughed as the silence stretched onwards. Skutch broke the silence.

"Well, you can hardly blame the Tallest, can you?" he said softly. His bravado was gone entirely. "Larb, Skoodge, El and Slacks by sheer dumb luck, Grapa by blowing his target up... Apart from them, our class... **we** failed." They had reached the door, which Zim noted required a palm scan. None of them reached for it, consumed in their own thoughts. Skoodge eventually reached out and spoke up.

"We're still the top soldiers of the Empire. The Tallest won't just discard us like that," he said. The scanner flared up around his hand. _It's not so easy for us to say that, my friend,_ Zim thought sullenly.

"SIGNATURE MATCH. WELCOME, INVADER SKOODGE," said the automated voice of the door's programming. Skoodge continued after the interruption.

"Something great is coming, I know it. All will be well," he said, forcing a smile. The others' moods lightened slightly as they walked through the doorway into a common room. The room's decorations bore the same colors as the door, red on white. Comfy furniture was scattered around, and Zim spotted Invaders Spleen and Chin lounging around on a pair of couches without a care in the galaxy. Their SIRs stood at attention nearby, utterly motionless. Spleen turned to regard them, and nodded in recognition towards Zim. He returned the gesture.

"Larb's one of the only ones who isn't back yet," said Skoodge. Zim grunted in affirmation, still trying to puzzle out the meaning of this gathering and how the Invaders had fallen to such menial assignments. The others furtively shared concerned looks.

"Zim, you're probably tired from your jump, why don't you get some rest?" asked Tenn gently. The others nodded, and she continued "Did Zark assign you a room?"

"He said something about room F8..." Zim said distractedly. "I'll find it." He looked up and did his best to put on a smile "It really was great to see you all again." After they said their goodbyes, Zim strolled through the small corridors, each of them holding the quarters for another Invader. Finally he came to his room, and opened the door with a palm scan. _The Commander's people work fast_, he thought to himself.

Inside, GIR had the room in a state of disarray. Zim's spare Invader uniforms were strewn about, and the little robot was wearing his dog suit for some reason. The room was actually sizable, and included a desk, a couch for guests, and a full size bed that the Invader felt could accommodate more than one occupant, all of it with that same color scheme of red on white. "ZIIIIIM! WHERE YA BEEEEEEN?" GIR shrieked, stopping to suck on a frozen treat with Irken brand names on its wrapping. _So they bribed him, _the Irken thought to himself. _Clever. _"THERE AIN'T NO CLOWNS NOWHERE HEEEERE!" he screamed again. It never ceased to amaze Zim how his servant could speak such garbage as if it made perfect sense.

"I have no time for your nonsense, GIR," he said irritably. He tossed some of his belongings off of his bed and flopped down on the white sheets. It was surprisingly comfy for a military bed. Tenn had been right, he _was_ exhausted, and eventually he managed to doze off. But one thing continued to nag at him as he lay there, turning itself over and over in his head. Something that Skutch had said earlier.

_We failed._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: So yeah, hope you all liked it. I'm pretty much just making personalities up for all the Invaders, since we didn't really get a chance to meet them before IZ got canceled :(<strong>_  
><em>

**Chapter title comes from the song "A Single Moment of Sincerity" by Asking Alexandria. This is the high point. And don't worry, I'll get some true metal in here soon.  
><strong>

**Please review if you liked it :D  
><strong>


	9. Chapter 8: Soldiers of Doomsday

**Chapter 8: Soldiers of Doomsday**

An air of excitement filled the _Massive's _hangar bay, as the throngs of spectators waited. Word had gotten around that a shuttle bearing the famed Invader Larb was arriving today, and thousands of off-duty soldiers, orderlies, and technicians had turned out to see him. A platoon of Elites stood apart from the eager onlookers, and within was a delegation of generals and bureaucrats. It was a small square of order in a sea of churning crowds. As it was, the grounds looked like someone had kicked an anthill.

The Invaders were at the back, standing against the wall leading to their barracks. Although they knew Larb better than anyone, none of them saw any reason to force themselves to the front; this was as much a ceremony of welcome as it was an informal rally for the masses. They had broken off into their cliques, huddling together conspiratorially, and were now waiting with all the rest. None of them had brought their SIR units with them; while none were as uncontrollable as GIR, this occasion simply did not warrant their presence, and so they had been left in the Invaders' quarters. Zim still had yet to see his friends' different SIRs, though he had heard so often about them.

Zim, Skoodge, Skutch, and Tenn stood closest to the door, directly behind the officers and their guards, though a press of spectators had slowly seeped in between the two groups. Tenn had suggested this so that they could be the first ones to greet Larb once all formalities had been dispensed with. Skutch leaned against the wall to Zim's left, while on his right Skoodge and Tenn were whispering to each other, their heads bent together and their eyes never leaving the block of officials before them. To the group's left were Invaders Spleen and Chin, standing apart from all others. Zim stared at the ever shifting mobs, his eyes flickering back and forth. "This is chaos," he stated bluntly, rousing Skutch from his nonchalant reverie.

"Oh come off it, Zim," he said amiably. "They're just excited to see the Hero of Vort." Zim shook his head with disgust.

"I am happy to see Larb, but this is _folly_," he spat. There was a thin perimeter of Grunts try to keep the mobs from pressing in and obstructing the landing area. Skutch eyed up the hangar, taking it all in for a moment. Then he leaned towards his friend, smiling slyly.

"So on a scale of one to ten," he teased "how jealous are you?"

Zim didn't even look away from the discord before him. "I merely wonder if all this pomp is necessary," he said curtly. Skutch laughed.

"So… a seven? Eight?" Zim turned to glower at his friend.

"Seven," he said with finality, eliciting further chuckles. The door groaned open to their right, drawing their gaze. Two Invaders stepped out and began to walk across them; dour Grapa and sad-eyed Flobee. As they walked by, Grapa's gaze flickered over to the two of them, who both inclined their heads to their fellow Invaders. He threw a salute and kept walking. He made his way over to Spleen and Chin, who stepped in to greet him and Flobee.

Craning his head to the right, Skutch waved for Skoodge and Tenn's attention. "Spot anything interesting?" he asked. The female Irken wrinkled her face, obviously not impressed with their findings. The portly Invader shook his head as well.

"I don't recognize any of these officials," Skoodge said hesitantly. Zim snorted.

"A delegation of unknowns. This sham is how they greet a hero such as Larb. Perhaps we should be glad we were spared this," he said.

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that," Tenn said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Try to be happy, for Larb at least," implored Skoodge. Zim bit back a biting retort when he saw the concern written on his friend's fat face. _Get ahold of yourself, they're right_, he told himself. _You owe that to Larb. Once this folly is over, things will be better._

"You're right, I'm sorry" he sighed. His friends looked relieved, and Skutch rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Larb might love this sort of stuff, but he's always been there for us too," he said, his voice devoid of his usual jests. "And who knows? Maybe we'll all be getting recognized soon." Zim nodded at his words. Theories as to why they had been brought together were running wild among the Invaders, most of them being utter nonsense. Some fool was even saying that the Tallest were going to execute them all and start from scratch. _That's comedy gold, right there_, Zim thought with irritation. _The fool had best hope I don't find their identity. _He had been about to ask his comrades for the seventh time when Larb's ship would be arriving, when he noticed that the hubbub in the hangar had died down considerably. Looking up at the entrance, he could see why.

The ship carrying Larb had arrived. It was a _Herald_-class shuttle, a sleek, blade-like ship designed for carrying important personnel and keeping them as comfortable as possible. It was 40 meters long, and sloped downward at the end so the pilots could see. Painted in red on the nose was the stylized Irken face that served as the insignia for the Empire. The rest of its hull was a subdued purple in color. A single laser turret sat on top of it, and at its rear was a bank of six thrusters, rotating slightly to compensate for any number of factors.

As the shuttle alighted down upon the floor in the middle of the bay, Tenn leaned in towards Zim. "The Tallest should've been here by now, right?" she asked incredulously. He shrugged.

"I would have thought so. At the very least the Supreme Commander should be here, like he was for us," he said slowly. _What are they playing at?_

"Maybe they were satisfied with putting on this 'folly' for him," Skutch offered. The others didn't laugh, and even Skutch's voice sounded strained. _You've got us all on the edge of our seats, Larb_, Zim realized. The voice of the crowd had fallen almost silent, and he noted that the other groups of Invaders seemed utterly absorbed in the landing shuttle as well.

Four thickset landing claws slid forth from inside the shuttle, and it gently landed, propped up on the four metallic legs. A door on the side of the hull slid open, and slowly a ramp descended. With a _clang_ it hit the floor and stopped. All eyes were on the shuttle, or on the various viewscreens around the hangar.

And then Larb stepped out of the shuttle.

The crowd roared to life immediately, screaming its approval with thousands of lungs. Zim's eyes drifted up to a viewscreen, where he saw Larb's face break into a massive smile as he waved to the onlookers. _Larb does indeed love being the hero_, he thought. He noted that the other Invaders were applauding, but all of them were more reserved in their celebration than the crowds all around them.

The atmosphere of the hangar brought his mind back to his early days, to the massive military rallies on Devastis during his training, and upon Irk in the days leading up to Impending Doom One. Thousands upon thousands of Irken troops of all stripes had crowded the streets for the Tallests' latest speech; Grunts behaving much like the mobs present here on the _Massive_, bellowing Elites beating and cutting themselves in their fury, and at the forefront the Invaders, a silent detachment of the deadliest soldiers in the Empire. He had stood there side by side with his friends and all the others, his head held high with pride in his race and his leaders. It had taken all his willpower not to scream to the heavens and prostrate himself before the Tallest on that day.

As the hero proceeded down the ramp of his shuttle, the block of officials walked out to the cleared area to meet him. Larb shook hands with the generals and bureaucrats, smiling and chatting amiably. The crowd's cheers had died down a bit, being replaced with the dull roar of a thousand conversations. Some were dispersing, back to their stations or quarters or some other part of the ship.

Skutch punched Zim lightly on the shoulder, saying "Now was that so bad?" Skoodge and Tenn chuckled at how embarrassed Zim looked.

"I am happy for Larb!" he insisted. "Still, it _could_ have been better," he added. Skutch held up his hands in mock exasperation as Tenn and Skoodge continued to laugh.

"Come on, let's see if we can talk to him now," offered Skoodge, and they started forward. The crowd had indeed thinned out before the delegation.

They barely made it ten steps when a large set of double doors to their right shot open. The sound of marching could be heard, and five Elites stepped over the threshold in lockstep, their rifles pointed upwards. A second rank was right behind them, and the crowd's background noise now buzzed with confusion. Zim gaped at the sigil emblazoned on their chests; the Irken insignia, split half red and half purple. He vaguely heard gasps from some of the onlookers as the same realization dawned upon them.

He heard Tenn say "_Shit_," as the Tallest floated in behind the fifth rank of Elites.

"I think we m-" Skutch started to say, but the ecstatic screaming of the spectators, far louder than they had been for Larb, cut off the rest of his sentence. Behind the Tallest was a stream of Elites, none of whom were bearing their personal sign, rushing all around to hold back the press of onlookers. The adoring crewmen didn't seem to mind as they continued to cheer wildly for the twin leaders of the Irken Empire.

As they floated towards Larb and the other delegates, acknowledging and waving to their subordinates as they went, Tallest Red's gaze fell on Zim. The Invader's heart leapt into his mouth as he threw the sharpest salute of his life. A ghost of a smile passed over Red's face, and he raised one of his armored hands in greetings before looking away. Zim was stupefied.

He felt someone elbow him in his side and he looked down to see Tenn beaming up at him. Over her shoulder he saw Skoodge nodding sagely. "I told you everything would be alright with them," he said. Skutch stepped between him and Tenn, throwing his arms around their shoulders.

"You know, if we hurry," he said jokingly, "we can get out before they start talking."

Tallest Red's voice boomed out across the hangar, amplified through speakers throughout the bay. "My loyal-"

"And good looking!" cut in Tallest Purple.

"-crew," finished Red, over the canned laughter of the spectators. "Today, one of the Empire's finest sons has returned to us on the _Massive._"

"The Empire thanks you for your service throughout the years of Operation Impending Doom Two," said Purple. He held up a single talon, as if in warning, and continued. "But this is far from over." _Indeed_, thought Zim.

"Indeed," said Red. "But we are **winning**. We have smashed the fleets placed before our mighty Armada, and we will continue to do so!"

"You are the crew of the deadliest ship in the mightiest fleet in the galaxy," said Purple, and the crew cheered for a moment. "Do your duty, and we shall take our place as the masters of the Milky Way."

Red raised a hand, palm facing upwards "Soon we leave Lortak. Once more we fly to battle, and to **crush** the enemy," he finished, clenching his gauntlets into a fist. _Good,_ he thought grimly. _A chance for glory, by Irk_.

"The path has been set," said Purple, and Red nodded in accord. The crowd cheered, and the Tallest smiled and waved. Once more the crowds began to disperse. Zim looked over at Skutch, and raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Now was that so bad?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Skutch laughed.

"They're usually long winded, bombastic things," he said. He nodded towards the Tallest, who were now conversing with Larb. "What do you suppose they're saying to him?"

"No way of telling," said Zim, though he would have given a great deal to know. So he and his friends stood by, waiting. The Tallest soon turned and floated away, taking their procession with them. By this time, most of the crowd was gone, and although scores of Irkens were still idling about, the relative quiet was oddly relaxing.

Larb looked away from the departing Tallest, and his gaze fell upon the four of them. For a second he looked stunned, and then he broke into a run, as did they. Laughing with joy the five of them all embraced and started talking at the same time until the Larb raised his hands, asking them for quiet. Zim noticed that he stood perhaps a couple inches taller than himself. Larb's face was as plain as the day Zim had met him, but his eyes seemed to hold a great weight behind them.

"It's so good to see you all," he said as they settled down, with the same massive smile that he had worn when the crowds were cheering for him. "It's been too long," he said wistfully.

"Likewise," said Zim. The others voiced their affirmation. "So, how was Galastrix?"

"It was nothing out of the ordinary," he said, although there was something in his eyes that Zim couldn't identify. "I was attached to some _crazy_ Elites, and we helped take the Royal Palace's gates before being relieved. Then I came back here."

Skutch and Tenn began to ask him details of the engagements, but Zim didn't hear any of it, as his mind furiously combed over his friend's words. _Came back here. Not called, but came back. I wonder…_

"Larb, I don't suppose _you_ know why we are here?" he asked. The others stopped and looked at him.

The newly arrived Invader hesitated, and said "I can't say." Tenn shifted uncomfortably, Skutch raised an eyebrow, and Skoodge was looking back and forth at all of them, as though he was seeking guidance on what to do. Zim just stared levelly at Larb, arms crossed, before speaking up again.

"What did the Tallest say to you?" he asked. Larb sighed, and his smile melted off his face.

"I can't say," he said sadly. Zim's jaw tightened. Skutch cleared his throat.

"Well do you know when we might find out?" he asked. Skoodge nodded, curiosity written on his pudgy features. Larb's relief was palpable.

"Tomorrow. You'll find out tomorrow," he said. "I'm… I'm sorry. But I can't tell you anymore. The Tallest…" he broke off, and looked utterly helpless, before Tenn stepped in.

Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, she said "It's okay Larb, we understand." As she said this she turned and her gaze fell squarely on Zim. Her face didn't betray any emotions, but the look was all he needed. _Get over yourself_, it screamed. He nodded.

Skoodge was smiling again, gesturing back towards the Invaders' barracks. "Come on, guys. Let's show Larb to his quarters," he said excitedly. The others agreed, but Larb hesitated once again.

"I have to… the Tallest want to see me," he said softly. Once again, Zim exchanged glances with the others. Skoodge looked disappointed and Tenn was perplexed, but Skutch looked resigned. He gave Larb a clap on the back and jerked a thumb towards the large double doors the Tallest had come and gone through.

"Well, there's nothing for it. Better not keep them waiting," he said. "We'll see you when things are done, yeah?" Larb smiled sadly, gratitude written plainly on his plain face.

"Yeah, that'll be nice," he said. He sounded exhausted. "Thanks guys. I'm really sorry about…"

"Don't worry about it," Zim interrupted. _It's only a secret for one day, just move on,_ he thought. "We're happy for you. You're a hero to the Empire."

"Yeah," Skoodge added. "If it's top secret, maybe we don't want to know. You might have to kill us." He smiled at his weak attempt at humor.

"_Anyways_," said Tenn, "you should get going. We'll see you at the barracks."

"Alright, that sounds nice," said Larb as he walked off. He turned and waved to his four stalwart friends, who waved back, and silently watched him head off to report to the Almighty Tallest. It was Tenn who spoke first, and the female Invader's voice was fraught with concern.

"He seems so worn out," she said. "It's like he's walking to his own execution." Zim felt a chill pass down his spine, and shook his head. Skutch and Skoodge remained silent, lost in thought, so he filled the void with his thoughts.

"He does not like having to keep this from us, that much is obvious," he said. "What is curious is what they specifically need him for when _all_ the Invaders are present." Skoodge looked up.

"Larb is skilled, and known to the people of the Empire," he offered. The others nodded, but Zim was still thinking.

"He was deployed onto a battlefield, the same as the rest of you."

"That he was," said Skutch, his eyes lighting up. "Even _Larb_ wasn't spared the menial assignments." Tenn cut in.

"You think he knows why we are being assigned so," she said, looking at Zim. It was not a question. He nodded grimly.

"And he knows what the future holds for us Invaders," he said. "We must hope it is better than such poor uses of our skills." He glanced around the hangar bay, and said, "Come, we should go."

The others followed, but nothing was said between them as they retired, and indeed Zim barely registered that the others had split up to go to their rooms. He entered his small room of white and red to find GIR sleeping on his bed, curled up in a ball at the base. Shucking off his uniform until he was wearing naught but the black bodysuit beneath it, he pulled the covers over him from under GIR. The little robot gave an extravagant yawn before rolling off the bed. He hit the floor with a mighty _clang_. Zim peered over to find that he was somehow still asleep in spite of the impact.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Zim closed his eyes, and after a few hours of suppressing his paranoid thoughts about the next day's revelations, drifted off into sleep.

* * *

><p>The next day had come, and true to Larb's words the Invaders had been summoned en masse to the Tallests' war room. Sitting above the bridge, the war room was dimly lit, and few ever got to see it. Such were the privileges one got for being the best of the best. A massive holographic table sat in the middle. It wasn't currently operating, but Zim could guess that it bore an immensely detailed map of the galaxy down to a planetary level. The seats the Invaders were occupying were arranged like the skool's lecture hall, with terraced rows of seats, although it wasn't as large as that dusty old place. He and his friends had taken their seats on the left side in the second row. He fidgeted as GIR climbed over and through his and his friends' legs. Skutch was amused to no end by the defective robot and Skoodge just grinned and bore it, though Tenn was beginning to look annoyed. His friends had brought their SIRs with them as well, and he found himself sizing them up a great deal.<p>

Tenn's unit was a heavily-modified, vicious little thing that she had nicknamed RAZE. Where GIR was cylindrical and rounded, RAZE was triangular and sharp. His body was whip thin, and his fingers tapered into needle-like points. The SIR's elbows had short, vicious spines emerging from them, and hiss feet bore two talons. GIR's head was a flat topped cylinder, but RAZE's head sloped back and into yet another blade. RAZE was also the only one of the three others who had a mouth rather than a simple vocabulator. His highlights were in fiery orange, and his narrowed eyes glared at the denizens of the war room as he squatted at the female Invader's feet.

Skutch called his unit CRAG, which was a rather fitting name in Zim's eyes. He was tall for a SIR, coming up to Zim's waist, and was very solidly built. He was far bulkier than RAZE or GIRl; a human might have said he was a 'brick house'. His highlights were a very dark green, like the leaves of a forest. He stood motionless by Skutch, though his eyes were wide open, and seemed to be analyzing every Invader as they entered the war room.

Skoodge's SIR was called CHIPZ and he was the most normal of the bunch. His torso was slightly thicker than GIR's, and he only had two clamp-like fingers, but he appeared to be standard apart from that. His highlights were light maroon, and his wide eyes gazed about the room with curiosity.

The friends were quiet today, as were most of the other Invaders. Whispers could be heard here and there, but most were absorbed in their thoughts as they pondered why they had all been called back together. Finally, Skoodge leaned over and asked the question that had been nagging them all. "Where's Larb?"

"Might be that he's just running a little late," said Skutch. The normally carefree Invader was affecting a bored tone, but Zim could see how tense his muscles were. He had also worn a holstered blaster pistol to the war room. Tenn was similarly armed, and was wearing her brace of knives to boot. _Surely they don't think the Tallest mean us harm?_ Zim wasn't so sure with the way they were holding themselves today. _Damnation, I should have come armed as well_.

"There is little chance of that," said Zim. Skutch sighed.

"I _know_ that, Zim," he said. Tenn and Skoodge turned to regard them.

"He knows why we're here. He's definitely going to be with the Tallest when this starts," the female Invader said. Skoodge looked uneasy. At the corner of Zim's vision, GIR was staring at RAZE, who ignored him. The defective SIR's awkward posture showed how little experience he had with his own kind.

"Well, that's probably good for him," he said, his optimism shining through the tense atmosphere of the war room.

Zim ignored him and looked at his fellow Invaders. Counting his comrades, there were twenty two of them in total. They were in there casual uniforms today; red uniforms with pink collars and sleeves, and black pants. Their PAKs were all modified to a degree, and no two were the same. Despite being out of their combat gear, he noticed that over half of them were armed like Skutch and Tenn. Grapa and his clique were seated on the opposite side of the first row of seats. Despite Chin's superior height over him, and all the other Invaders for that matter, Grapa was clearly the leader of the group, who sat around him and hung on his every word. Other groups were seated here and there; El, Zee and Gooch reclined near the back, Kim fidgeted next to Slacks and Nen, and Krunk and Groot furiously whispered to one another.

The largest band consisted of Tim, Koot, Skoo, Pesto, Sklud and Slant. The six had cockily placed themselves in the front and center of the seating, although they had only earned it by arriving first. These six were the newest of the bunch; all the others had been Invaders before Impending Doom One, but these six had been selected to fill out the ranks as they dwindled in the years between that failure and Impending Doom Two. They had thus far failed to distinguish themselves in any way, but still acted as if they were the new breed of Invaders who would replace the old guard of Impending Doom One. Zim was not overly fond of his fellows from the old days, but he respected them. He had no such respect for the six upstarts.

Thinking of the gap in years brought a thought to the forefront of Zim's mind, which was churning with paranoid thoughts of what the Tallest could be planning. "Perhaps the Tallest plan to swell our ranks once more, like they did with them," he said, contemptuously flicking a finger in the direction of Tim, Koot, and the others. He realized that the others had been conversing without him, but they stopped to consider the interruption all the same.

"I had thought of that," Skutch admitted. "We've been really lucky, we haven't lost anybody, despite our class's… failure." The last word was still a bitter pill to swallow for the Invaders, but Skoodge picked up where the carefree Invader had left off.

"That might not be so bad," the portly Invader said. "Some new faces might be nice."

Tenn was about to speak when the doors slid open gracefully and silently, well maintained as they were. Every Invader in the room knew that, barring Larb, there were no more Invaders left to arrive. Apparently, all the others had reached the same conclusion as Zim and his friends, that Larb would be more involved in the briefing. As such, they all shot to their feet and threw a salute, right fist to left shoulder. It could only be the Tallest.

They were not mistaken.

The twin figures of the Almighty Tallest glided in like a pair of terrible deities. Red was deadly serious, his arms folded behind his back, while Purple bore an easygoing smile which in no way detracted from the unnerving aura surrounding them. The architects of the death of billions floated slowly before the holotable, Red on Zim's left and Purple on the right, and turned to regard the gathered Invaders, their finest killers. Such was the weight of the Tallests' presence that Zim barely registered the Supreme Commander on their heels.

What Zim _did_ notice was Larb, walking almost abreast with Zark. A slight murmur spread throughout the Invaders, and he heard Tenn whisper "Oh, Irk help him." Red waved dismissively, and the Invaders sat down. Zark took his place behind the Tallest, to the left of Red, his arms folded across his chest. As ever, his face might have been carved from stone. Larb stood at his side. His awkward bearing gave Zim pause.

"He's not himself. He _loves_ being the center of attention," he whispered. Skutch grunted, and Tenn's right hand began to stroke her throat, a habit of hers when she became worried. Skoodge was enraptured by his leaders' presence, and didn't seem to hear him. GIR was tugging on the bottom of his tunic, and Zim placed his left hand on the top of his head, warding off his question. "GIR, _behave_," he said out of the corner of his mouth. His minion's blue highlights flared red, and GIR actually sat down. Zim normally would have been shocked at this, but he was too focused on the coming briefing.

Tallest Purple broke the silence. "Invaders. You are the best of the best, the most superior specimens of our race, short of us. Long have you served as the advance scouts of our great Empire, risking your lives to infiltrate worlds before our advance so that they might fall all the easier once the Armada reaches them."

Red picked up. "You have been augmented to be the greatest warriors of the Armada, and are each able of taking down scores of the enemy with ease." That was a stinging reminder to Zim, for he had been absent when the Invaders had received their second augmentations. As it was, he languished with the impressive, albeit outdated Mark I Invader programs. "And recently, all of you proved it, with combat assignments across the battlefronts of Impending Doom Two." Zim's gaze flickered across his fellows, taking in their reactions. Even Skutch and Tenn seemed to take a grim pride in the menial missions they had been given in the interim. Assigning an Invader to routine combat was overkill, but they were damn proud of their performance in said overkill.

Purple resumed speaking. "These missions were not a proper use of your skills, and for that you have our sincerest apologies," he said, resting an armored hand on his chest, a look of genuine regret on his face. Zim's misgivings flooded out of him, and he harkened back to the days when he was excited to funnel reports back to the _Massive_, even if they were all about his failures. _The Tallest know my worth,_ he thought. _Things __**shall**__ get better. _

"You also have our apologies for the greatest failing of them all," said Red. "The Invader system."

The words hit the Invaders like a thunderbolt. Skutch's slouching posture went rigid as a board in an instant, Tenn's jaw dropped, and Skoodge mouthed the word "no" over and over. Zim couldn't believe his antennae. _This isn't happening,_ he thought. _This __**can't **__be happening._ Dead silence reigned in the war room.

The Tallest looked about, taking in the shocked expressions of the Invaders. Zark stood unmoving, but his eyes were moving as well. They fell on Zim and when he met the Supreme Commander's gaze they lingered there, frustratingly vague. _Curse your face of unreadableness, Zark!_ His patience was fraying, but he forced down the urge to stand up and scream.

Purple began to speak again, and twenty two heads snapped to lock their eyes on him. His arms were raised in a placating gesture, and his tone was easygoing. "That is not to say that **you** are failures, my faithful Invaders. But the old ways are flawed." Palpable relief swept through the room, but unease remained. _What does that even mean_?

Red answered the question thundering through Zim's mind, and likely the minds of all the others. "A single warrior, no matter how puissant, has little chance of bringing a world down on their own," he said. He shook his head sadly. "Such is the way we have squandered your talents. You have fought valiantly against impossible odds, and some of you have even triumphed."

Purple nodded, smiling. "Skoodge, Grapa, El, Slacks… and Larb," he said, turning to the lonely Invader standing beside Zark. He beckoned with a large bionic talon, and Larb walked forward to stand before them, facing his peers. He looked very nervous.

Red spare Larb a glance, and continued. "There are far better uses for soldiers of your caliber," he said. "No more shall you be given impossible missions, or menial combat runs. You shall be the hands of the Empire, just as Armada Intelligence is the eyes and ears." Despite the thick tension of the briefing, Skutch managed to scoff at that. There was no love lost between the Invaders and the spies of the Armada.

"Henceforth," said Purple, "you shall have the most dangerous, most difficult, most important missions of the Empire given to you, on _and_ off the battlefield. You will be the armored fist of the Tallest, to destroy our enemies where all else fails." Zim's gut tightened. _**Yes**_, he thought. Skutch bore a feral smile, Skoodge's wide eyes were sparkling, and Tenn looked pleased as punch.

"And Larb," said Red, resting a massive gauntlet on the smaller Irken's shoulder, "is to be your new commander, answerable only to myself and Tallest Purple." Larb looked like he was going to be sick. _No mention of Zark?_ Zim looked at the Supreme Commander, to see his reaction. He was indeed staring at the newly-christened Invader commander, perhaps a little coolly, but that was all. _Right_, he thought, _forgot who I was talking about_.

Purple was speaking again. "You shall be reorganized into teams and individual operatives. Also, we have combed over the Empire and have pulled together some new recruits who are ready for augmentation. They will be assigned accordingly."

"In two days' time, Larb shall have assignments ready for you all," finished Red. He looked about, taking in the Invaders and their excitement. "This war is the start of a new era," he said quietly. "A new era of purity and progress. You are the greatest assets we have in this war."

"Nothing can stop an Invader," said Purple. "Nothing can stop **you**. And with this terrible power that flows through your limbs, that beats in your hearts, and that lurks in your minds, we will _conquer_!" he shouted. Big, toothy grins broke out amongst the Invaders. _Impossible,_ thought Zim even as pride surged through him. _Invaders do not lose themselves like this_.

"The filth of this galaxy shall be wiped clean, replaced by the glory and beauty of _IRK_!" shouted Red, floating towards the Invaders. The air seemed to crackle with building fury. _Impossible_, Zim thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw GIR stand up, his head cocked as he watched the speech of the Tallest.

Purple joined Red and glided towards the spectators. "This is our destiny! This is what we were _born_ to do!" He swept a hand across his chest. "One by one, the inferior **weaklings** of the galaxy shall fall!" Zim heard ragged panting and was shocked to see Skoodge breathing hard, his eyes blazing. Tenn growled further on, and Skutch's hands, balled into fists, were shaking. _Impossible, _he thought dimly, as visions of glory leapt unbidden into his mind's eye. In a single moment he caught glimpses of himself fighting across a dozen battlefields, before one stuck with him.

The largest city upon Earth, New York, was aflame around him. Artillery pounded the skyscrapers, and he could hear fighting further on down the streets. In the center of the intersection lay the severed head of the green sentinel of the city, a maiden representing freedom. He stood atop it, and at his feet was the broken body of Dib. How or why he was there didn't occur to Zim, but he was laughing, with a foot upon the large-head's chest. The vision was intoxicating, and he felt his limbs burning with adrenaline.

"We shall pick up the pieces of these slain giants, these filthy realms of the other races, and we shall make the galaxy a better place!" roared Red. "A PLACE WHERE IRK RULES ALL!" he screamed, throwing his hands wide. Behind him, Zim saw Zark. The Supreme Commander's fists were clenched at his sides, and he was panting as hard as Skoodge, as though he was fighting for control of his body. He growled as Skutch gave a harsh laugh beside him. GIR was now smiling up at him.

"INVADERS OF IRK, ARE YOU WITH US?!" cried Purple, looming before the six upstarts in the front.

Zim's discipline broke at that moment, and he stood up, bellowing "_**Yes**_!" He saw Grapa, Groot, Spleen and others on their feet as well, adding their voices to his, and in seconds twenty two Irken voices were howling their affirmation of loyalty to the Tallest and the Empire. GIR was screaming incoherently at his feet, beating his chest, and RAZE threw his head back, giving a wordless howl in a harsh, metallic tone. He could see Larb's face behind the Tallest, lit up with terrified excitement.

"LOOK TO YOUR ARMS!" shouted Red, raising one hand to the sky. "LOOK TO YOUR COMRADES!" he cried, raising the other. "FOR IN THE COMING DAYS, BY IRK, SHALL THEY BE TESTED!" The Invaders gave another wild cheer. _Impossible,_ said a voice at the back of Zim's head, but he roared with his peers all the same.

"GIRD YOURSELVES FOR GLORY! FOR **WAR**!" howled Purple, and the Invaders swore they would. Watching as the Invaders writhed amongst themselves, telling their companions of the great deeds awaiting them, he threw both arms out for quiet. His voice suddenly soft, he said, "The path has been set." He bowed his head slightly, and the Tallest turned for the door, with Zark and Larb following behind.

The Invaders' eyes lit up, and as their leaders took their leave, the war room once more was filled with twenty two voices, chattering of their glories yet to come.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: Hurray for plot! Also, I gotta say, not writing bombastic speeches for the Tallest has been killing me, so hopefully this one is good. Also, once again my schedule slipped. I'm really sorry about the one month wait. All I can say is I hope I do better.<strong>

**So yeah, now the Invaders are basically spec ops. It's sort of like how the Armada is now really fucking huge, because scale wise, I think this is a more realistic use of the 'most superior' soldiers in the Empire. Also, if you didn't catch it, the whole 'Mark I Invader' augmentation deal is why there's such a difference between Zim's performance against Dib, and why Larb's able to mow down tons of enemy soldiers. How will this get fixed? Will it? Keep reading :p**

**On CHIPZ. Incidentally, that's semi-canon. Skoodge was going to end up living with Zim and being his partner of sorts, but the show got cancelled before that could happen. Anyways, 'Chipz' was going to be the name of Skoodge's SIR unit when this happened, and he would presumably play off of GIR, but we don't know anything else. RAZE and CRAG are my own original designs though. And yeah, Chipz (and Tak's MiMi, come to mention it) weren't full acronyms in the script, but that's how I'm writing SIR names.**

**Also, on the Invaders. We have a canon list of all the Invader names, and some of you might note that I'm missing a few. For various reasons, I took them out. Either they're impossible to take seriously like Stink, Dooky, Poot, and Sneakyonfoota (seriously, what the fuck) or because they don't really strike me as Irken-y names, like Lardnar (not that you guys couldn't keep up with two, but Lard Nar is a bit important to have someone with the exact name) and Alexovich (it's nice he's named after someone on the team, but it's obviously a human name). So I took them out. There will be Invaders replacing them and more besides, though, as the Tallest noted.**

**Chapter title comes from the song "Soldiers of Doomsday" by Winds of Plague. It's a rather accurate summation of the Invaders, at least from the view of other races, in my opinion.**

**Feel free to review, follow, or fave it if you liked it :D**


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